All About Timing
by reachfortheschuyler
Summary: Outlaw Queen and Hood-Mills family one-shots and post-ep fics from all across the seasons, in no particular order.
1. The Next Turn

It's probably early morning. It's hard to tell down here. If 'here' is even really 'down,' that is. Either way, it's early enough in the morning that the sky is still an unsettling shade of purple, and early enough that when Regina rolls over, there should not be an empty spot next to her. It's early enough that even forest-dwelling thieves shouldn't be awake and yet, it appears hers is.

She takes a slow breath, blinking against the bleariness of sleep and double checks to make sure Henry is still where he's supposed to be. If the soft snores coming from above her head are any indication, he hasn't budged since last night. She cranes her neck to glance around the camp and it would seem no one has budged at all. No one except Robin.

Regina sits up and rolls her head from side to side until she hears a crack in her neck. Why can't their 'adventures' come with Egyptian cotton and memory foam? Of course, Robin had been a decent enough substitute and had Regina not gotten a very sound night of sleep, she might have felt a tad bit bad about lying almost completely on top of him. Although somehow, Robin managed to slip away without waking her. Stealthy.

Regina shivers against the brisk morning air, the fire having died some time in the night. She stands and pulls the wool blanket she and Robin had been sharing around her shoulders, careful not to disturb anyone else as she quietly steps over twigs and leaves. She may not be a tracker like Snow or Robin, but she knows her soulmate. And she has a sneaking suspicion as to where he might be.

Their camp isn't far from the graveyard. Maybe a couple hundred yards into the forest that skirts the outer edge of the cemetery and so Regina finds herself among headstones and mausoleums soon enough. She avoids reading the names, not out of fear she'll recognize some of them, but out of fear that she won't. It's bad enough so many people are down here because of her. It's even worse she doesn't remember half of them.

She spots him a few rows back from Hook's grave, his back to her as he sits alone in the grass. She's not a thief or a bandit, she's not an expert on sneaking up on people, so he hears her approach, he must, but he doesn't look up when she's next to him, tail of the blanket brushing the ground. "Morning," she murmurs with a sniff, the cold air making her nose run.

"Good morning," Robin answers, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Regina replies, sitting down next to him. Her knee bumps into his, but still he doesn't look at her. She reaches for his hand, dropping it when his frozen fingers touch hers. "Jesus, Robin, you're freezing." She shrugs the blanket off her shoulders and throws part of it over his, shifting closer to him so they can share the warmth of the wool. "How long have you been out here?"

Robin shrugs, pulling the blanket more fully over his shoulder and bringing the corner close to his chest. "Probably long enough," he sighs.

"What do you mean?" Regina asks, reaching for his free hand again and holding it in her lap.

Robin doesn't answer for a long moment before shaking his head. "She's not here," he states simply, eyes trained on the ground.

Regina furrows her brow and looks for the first time at the grave they're seated in front of, only to see no headstone at all. It takes a moment, but then she realizes. She's not the only one who has loved ones in need of closure. "Oh, Robin," she breathes, wrapping an arm around his back under the blanket, her head finding his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head again. "I thought… I had hoped she'd be here. So I could apologize for… everything, I guess."

"You don't need to apologize," Regina insists quietly, squeezing his hand.

Robin laughs bitterly. "I don't? For the past four months, I've done nothing but besmirch her memory. I've dishonored her, I've completely erased her from our son's mind. Wherever she is, she probably hates me. And I don't blame her. I deserve-"

"Stop it."

"Regina-"

"No." She lifts her head from his shoulder and looks at him directly. "You are not responsible for any of that."

Robin shakes his head. "You keep telling me that. _Everyone_ keeps telling me that. 'It's Zelena's fault, it's all Zelena's fault.' And if that's true, why do I feel so bloody guilty?" He shrugs the blanket off and stands, taking a few steps away before walking back toward her. "I can't get away from feeling guilty. I felt guilty when I left you for Mari- Zelena and then guilty again when I couldn't tell her I love _you_ because _she_ was frozen." He turns away again, frustratedly messing up his hair.

"I felt guilty when I had to leave you again and then guilty the entire two months I was in New York because I was with _her_ , but thinking of you. And then I felt guilty when you found me and guilty when I wasn't sure if I wanted my daughter and guilty when I realized I did because I knew it would hurt you." His voice cracks and he swallows, turning back to face her.

"And now I feel guilty because I am here, traipsing around the Underworld while my son and daughter are back in Storybrooke without me. And I can apologize to you until I run out of air because you're here- alive- with me, but I can't… I can't even tell Marian that I'm sorry because she's not here," he finishes on a choked whisper.

Regina swallows and stands, leaving the blanket on the ground. "Robin," she says softly, taking the few short steps that separate them until she's right in front of him. She grasps one of his hands and then reaches up to touch his cheek, waiting until he finally looks at her. "You do not need to apologize to me or to anyone," she states firmly. "And I think Marian feels the same way."

"You can't know that," he argues feebly.

"I do know that," Regina insists. "And you know why?"

He shakes his head.

"Because if she wanted an apology, if she held any of this against you, she'd be here," Regina explains gently. "But she's not. She's someplace good and wonderful and she's at _peace_ , something I'm sure she wants for you more than anything."

Robin sniffs and swallows. "Peace," he spits bitterly. "Considering the turmoil my life has been lately, I don't think that's possible."

Regina rakes her eyes over his face for a moment, the laugh lines she's come to know by heart now etching his face with misery instead of joy. Not for the first time in all these months they've been together, her heart breaks for him, suffering at the hands of someone who had no right to cause him so much pain.

"You told me something once, a long time ago, before all this," she starts softly, pressing her torso closer to his, both to be nearer to him and to fight against the chill in the air. "When we were in the library and I was at my wits' end trying to find happiness after I had lost it so many times, you found that page. That picture of us from another lifetime, another story. And you know what you said?"

Robin exhales slowly. "Tell me," he murmurs, moving an arm to wrap around her waist.

"It means you're not doomed to suffer," Regina echoes. "There's a bright future waiting for you around every turn, even if you miss one." She skirts her hand around to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. "That was true for me then, and it's true for you now. Yeah, life has sucked lately. But it's not going to stay that way forever. We're together and we have the boys and the baby. There's a bright future waiting for us." She shrugs. "So we've missed a couple turns along the way. It doesn't matter now." She leans up and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. "This next turn is ours. We've just got to make the decision to take it."

Robin rests his forehead against hers, breathing deeply for several moments. "I'm willing to follow you around any turn. I just… I wish I could talk to her one last time. Ask for her forgiveness or her blessing or something. I feel like I can't move on knowing I'm leaving her in the past without clearing the air. My last memories of her are tainted and I don't want to remember her like that."

"Then you can remember her by this- that she's not here because she doesn't need to be," Regina replies. "Her moving on is absolution. She doesn't blame you. You've told me about how kind her heart was and this is a perfect example of that. Remember her for her heart and how even in death, she never wavered from who she truly was. _That's_ something to remember her by, not the mockery that Zelena made her out to be."

Robin closes his eyes and nods, staying quiet for a minute before weaving his fingers into her hair. "It's not exactly the peace I was hoping for," he admits quietly.

"I know it's not," Regina murmurs. "But it's something. And that's better than what you had before, isn't it?"

"It is," he agrees, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And maybe… maybe being here, seeing that she was able to move on, maybe that's what I needed. She's not suffering, she's someplace good."

Regina hums her agreement. "She is. And now maybe you can get to someplace good, too."

An echo of a smile comes to his lips. "I take it you'll be in this good someplace?"

She breathes a laugh and nods, sliding her arms around his waist underneath his hoodie, soaking in his (albeit dwindling) warmth. "Wherever you want to go, I'll be there."

Robin places another kiss on her forehead and then a second one on her lips, wrapping his arms around her back to hold her tightly against him. Regina tucks her head under his chin, breathing deeply against the fabric of his shirt. It's funny- everything down in this hellhole seems to be backwards and distorted, but the one thing she's found that has stayed the same is the woodsy smell of her soulmate.

Robin squeezes her tighter for a long moment and then releases, sliding his hands down her arms to intertwine their fingers. He looks up at the sky, the strange purple starting to give way to the unsettling orange of daytime. "We should probably head back before we're missed," he muses, bending down to pick up the blanket. He shakes it out and wraps it around her shoulders, kissing the tip of her nearly numb nose.

As they pick their way through the rows and rows of headstones, Regina takes the opportunity to study his face once more. There's still a hint of misery, a shadow of the guilt he's desperately trying to put behind him, but there's something else now too. Something that seems freer, calmer, and more like the Robin she knew before everything went to shit. She wraps her arms around his middle as they walk, squeezing tightly when he lands a kiss on her hair. Their road hasn't been an easy one, but a new turn is coming up and she's positive it will lead them both to someplace good.


	2. Fear of a Name

She needs chalk. Of all the things Regina had thought she'd need in the Underworld, chalk wasn't one of them. But now she does. Desperately, in fact. She needs chalk to mark the elevator door with ancient symbols from a spellbook so she can break through Hades's protection spell, but it seems there is no chalk anywhere in this godforsaken realm. She's gone through almost every drawer in this library and has not a single stick to show for it. And if the faint red tint to the sky is any indication, she's running out of time until morning arrives and Hades potentially with it.

"Looking for something?"

Regina snaps her head up at the voice, muscles tensing in surprise but relaxing when she sees the owner of the voice. It's just Robin.

"Yes, I am. What are you doing here?" she asks, opening another drawer in the checkout desk. "I thought you were heading to the woods."

"Snow wanted to watch the baby for a little while before I take her," Robin explains, walking from the front door to the desk. "I think she's missing Neal quite a bit. Figured we could spare just a few more hours." He smiles. "Besides, that means I get to see you for a time before I have to go."

Regina suppresses a grin as she moves around the contents of the drawer, still no chalk making an appearance. "If you're here to distract me-"

"I'm here to help you," Robin interrupts. "I ran into Emma outside. She said you were working on a difficult spell. Something that might let us into Hades's lair underground?"

Regina nods, reaching her hand all the way back in the drawer. "Ah ha!" she exclaims triumphantly, pulling back her hand. "Chalk."

"Chalk?"

"Uh huh. I've been looking for this for half an hour," Regina replies, exhaling. She comes around the other side of the desk and reaches for his hand, pulling him toward the elevator. "I have to mark the door with the right symbols or else the spell won't work and I need chalk to do that."

"Ah," Robin comments, untangling his fingers from hers. His hand goes to the small of her back, his chest bumping into her shoulder when she stops in front of the table where a spellbook lies open and marked.

Regina picks the book up and points to a section of ancient runes several lines long. "See?"

"And those markings will crack Hades's spell?" Robin asks, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Regina nods and shivers when Robin's hand moves from her back to wrap around her waist, his thumb rubbing circles on her side. She'd normally protest his public displays of affection- she has work to do and they're not exactly alone with Emma and Hook just outside, but he's leaving her soon for an indeterminate amount of time and she's going to be facing Hades at some point in the near future, so if he wants to hold her and touch her while they still have the chance, she's damn well going to let him.

"Is it dark magic?" Robin asks softly, giving her a squeeze when she stiffens.

Regina swallows and sets the book back down on the table. "Yes," she answers. "Trying to break through a spell cast by the lord of the Underworld doesn't exactly leave room for light magic."

She holds her breath as she waits for his response. He doesn't like magic in any form, but likes dark magic the least. Light magic he can stomach. He's told her as much- when she used it to defeat Zelena that first time, when she tried to save Marian, when she was tracking down the Author, when they were in Camelot. All those times, he'd been proud of her. Proud of her light magic and her resilient heart and her ability to use love instead of hate to channel her power. The Underworld, though, is different and more than once she's felt the addictive pull of dark magic even though she's only used it in tiny amounts so far. Magic is a slippery slope and she's under constant threat of perpetually sliding down.

Robin exhales and presses a kiss to her shoulder. "I hate that you have to use dark magic," he murmurs. "I know you have to, but I hate that you don't have another option."

"It's just until we get out of here," she promises.

"I know, love. But I also know how you struggle with the darkness. I don't want your efforts down here to become harmful to your progress."

Regina laces her fingers with his on her hip. "Do you love me?" she asks, turning her head slightly until her nose is nearly touching his cheek.

"Yes," he answers. "You know I do. With all I have."

"Then I'll be okay," Regina promises. "I have you and Henry and Snow and everyone else who came down here with us. I didn't have you all before, but now I do. And now I'll be okay, dark magic or not."

Robin gives her another squeeze, holding it longer than before. He turns his head just enough to steal a kiss from her lips, dotting one on her cheek and forehead as well. He takes a step away from her then, so they can see each other without going cross-eyed, and reaches for the book on the table. "Can I help?" he asks, looking over the lines of symbols.

"You… want to help me do magic?"

"I'm always willing to help you. Just tell me what to do," Robin insists.

Regina smiles and holds out the piece of chalk. "Okay. Take this and write the first line of symbols on the bottom of the elevator door."

"The first line on the bottom of the door?" Robin echoes. "That's a bit odd. You'd think the first line would go at the top."

"Everything's backwards here," Regina explains, leading him over to the elevator. "It makes perfect sense for an Underworld spell."

"Can't argue with that logic, I suppose," Robin agrees, studying the book with a furrowed brow. "What do the symbols mean?"

Regina shakes her head. "Trust me, you don't want to know." She walks back over to the checkout desk and picks up a folded step ladder, hauling it toward the elevator.

"Nasty stuff?" Robin asks, crouching down in front of the door.

"Very nasty," Regina grunts as she sets the ladder down and shakes it open. "Break me off a piece of that, would you?" she asks, climbing the first step.

Robin snaps the chalk in half and hands a section to her. "Do you need to see the book?" he asks, shifting to sit on his rear instead of crouching on his knees.

"No, I should be good. It's easier to remember the symbols when you know what they say," Regina answers, climbing to the top step. She rests her left hand on the wall for balance and then leans forward, chalk at the ready. Now did the first line start with 'blood of the children' or 'bone of the father'?

They work in silence for awhile, the occasional squealing of the chalk being the only thing to break the quiet. Eventually though, the sound of Robin's chalk ceases altogether. Regina glances down only to find him staring back up at her, smirk on his face.

"Can I help you?" she asks with faux irritation.

He shakes his head, grin never failing. "I was just thinking I rather like the view from down here," he admits, gaze running up and down her body.

Regina rolls her eyes, the corners of her mouth quirking up regardless. "It wouldn't be the first time you enjoyed having me above you."

"No, certainly not," Robin agrees. "It _is_ one of my favorite places to be."

Regina chuckles and shakes her head. "Stop flirting with me and get back to work or else I'll step on you."

"I'd rather you sit on me."

Regina's mouth drops open out of indignation for a moment before she schools her features into something playful. "Well, from this position, I'd probably land on your face and not your lap."

Robin fakes a scandalized gasp. "Milady. What you are suggesting is entirely inappropriate. We're in a _library."_

"You've never put up a protest about being inappropriate in a library before," Regina teases, cheeks flushing at the memory of some of their more heated encounters in both the Enchanted Forest and Camelot.

Robin throws her a wink. "Well, you can be very persuasive." He straightens into a kneeling position and holds the book up so she can see it. "I finished that line. What should I do next?"

"Start here and go up the side of the door," Regina answers, pointing for clarification.

"Got it." Robin sits down on his feet, shuffling over slightly so he can reach the one corner. "You know, love, aside from admiring the rather stunning view, I've been busy doing something else."

Regina laughs. "Do I want to know what that something is?"

"I've been thinking about names."

Regina stiffens. "Robin, I thought we said-"

"And how if I were to name my daughter," he continues, as if Regina had never spoken, "I definitely would _not_ name her Olivia." He sends a wink her way and Regina smiles, realizing the truth behind his words. "Because I definitely do not think that is a lovely name and it definitely was not a name I wanted for Roland had he been a girl."

Regina licks her lips, mouth twisting into a smile. "Well, in that case, I definitely don't like that name either. And since we're definitely not naming her that, then we definitely won't call her Liv or Livy for short or… anything like that."

"Oh, definitely not," Robin agrees.

"Do you have any ideas on what middle names you definitely don't like?" Regina asks nonchalantly, keeping her attention on her work.

"Oh, no, I know what her middle names are going to be," Robin replies confidently. "Louise Regina Elizabeth Margaret Eleanora."

Regina nearly drops her chalk. "Wh-what?" she stutters, looking down at him. She didn't hear that right. She couldn't have heard that right. She could've sworn he said-

"Louise Regina Elizabeth Margaret Eleanora," Robin repeats, turning to look up at her. His expression is innocent, but she knows his eyes. He knows what he said.

Regina swallows, hand shaking as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I… I don't understand. Why-"

"It's customary back home to name children after all the people their parents hope they will emulate in life," Robin explains. "Makes for quite lengthy names. I have seven… eight middle names. Robin Andrew Jonathan Michael Sebastian Victor George William Alexander Locksley. Bit much, if you ask me."

Regina shakes her head. She knew that. Of course she knew that. Everyone back in the Enchanted Forest named their children that way. That's not what she doesn't understand. "No, I meant why… why would you name your daughter after-"

"Louise is for my mother," Robin interrupts. "Regina for you, Elizabeth for my sister, Margaret for… well, for Snow, and Eleanora for my father's mother."

"Robin, I don't think that's such a good idea," Regina starts, eyes dropping to the ground.

"What's not?"

"Naming her after… after me," she admits, taking the two steps down the ladder until she's standing on the floor again.

Robin sets the book down on the ground and pushes himself to his feet. "Why wouldn't that be a good idea?" he asks, reaching for her hand, chalk forgotten.

"Kids made fun of Henry just for being the mayor's son," Regina explains. "Your daughter… life's already thrown her so many more obstacles. It's bad enough she'll be living with the Evil Queen. Imagine what would happen if people find out she's named after me too."

Robin shakes his head. "Love, do you really think I care about what other people would say? I'm choosing to give my daughter your name because if she grows up to be anything like you, then I'll have done my job as a parent." He presses a kiss to her furrowed brow. "I said I gave her names of people I wish her to emulate. Louise, my mother, was the kindest and most giving woman I've ever met. Elizabeth, my sister, had such a joy for life even in the darkest of times. Mary Margaret knows how to keep faith better than anyone I've ever met. Eleanora, my father's mother, was bold and strong and knew exactly what she wanted. And you-" He drops kisses to her forehead, cheek, and nose. "You, my foolish queen, are the most brilliant, most resilient, most inimitable person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing and the honor of loving. Of course I'd want my daughter to be like you."

Regina blinks, tongue suddenly heavy. "Oh," she says simply, her brain short circuiting. Of all the positions she thought she'd find herself in throughout this baby ordeal, becoming a namesake certainly wasn't one of them.

She had named Henry for her father and for Daniel, two men who had shown her more love and care than anyone else in the entire world. So far, her son has done a damn good job of making his namesakes proud. She herself hadn't been named for anyone. Mother didn't think anyone in her family was worth such an honor. Still, Regina fulfilled the destiny bestowed upon her on her name day, whether she wanted to or not. And now, there's a little girl being named after _her_ , not because her parents wish for her to be queen, but because this little girl's father sees something in Regina that is more than a crown and title. However Robin sees her heart, that's how he wishes his daughter's to be. For the umpteenth time, Regina can't understand what he sees in her or how she got lucky enough to find someone who takes the time to look.

Robin tugs her closer until she's pressed against him, her hand resting on his chest. "I suppose I should have asked you first," he admits, eyes flickering back and forth between her own. "Sorry I caught you off-guard."

Regina shakes her head, finally being able to swallow. "No, it's fine. I just… wasn't expecting it. At all."

Robin nods, thumb running over her knuckles. "Still… Regina, my love, may I name my daughter after you?"

Her smile comes easily as she ducks her head, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Yes," she answers. "But not until we get out of this world."

"Of course. We will not be naming Olivia Louise Regina Elizabeth Margaret Eleanora Locksley until we are safely back in Storybrooke. And even then, that's not at all what we're naming her." Robin smirks and winks, stealing a kiss from her lips just as the front door to the library opens.

"Look who I found," Snow sing-songs as she enters, tiny pink bundle in her arms. "Look, it's Daddy."

Robin smiles and steps away from Regina, reaching out to take his daughter. "Hello there, princess," he coos, dropping a kiss to her forehead. "Were you good for Snow?"

"Oh, she was wonderful. Slept like a champ," Snow gushes. "She just had another feeding and I figured you might want to move her while she's still awake. The trip might tucker her out again."

Robin sighs. "I suppose you're right." He turns back to Regina, reluctance on his face. "Guess I won't be able to help you finish the elevator, love."

"Don't worry about it. This is more important," Regina insists, taking a step to kiss his cheek. "Be careful. You remember where in the forest I set something up for you, right?"

"Yes. I'll find it," Robin promises. He shifts the baby into the crook of his elbow and wraps his free arm around Regina's waist. "Promise me you'll be careful too." He sighs again. "I hate not being able to protect both my girls."

Regina squeezes his arm. "I'll be fine. I got the best backup in the world." She leans around Robin to catch her step-daughter's eye. "Don't I, Snow?"

The princess nods. "I won't let anything happen to her," she promises.

Robin half-smiles before startling slightly. "I left my bow at the loft," he realizes. He looks down at his daughter and then up at Regina. "Would you mind holding her for bit, love, while I go get it?"

"Of course," Regina answers, holding out her arms.

Robin passes the baby from his arms to hers, steals another kiss, and then heads out the door, loft bound.

Snow turns back from the door to look at Regina. "She is such an easy baby," she sighs wistfully. "Neal had a colicky phase for the first few months."

"She probably gets her temperament from her father," Regina guesses, swirling circles on the baby's stomach. "And Neal probably got his from David. They're both whiners."

Snow smiles sadly, arms crossed over her stomach. "I wonder if he'll look like David too."

Regina gives Snow a determined look. "You'll get back to him," she declares. "One way or another, you will. I'm sure of it."

"That sounds an awful lot like a hope speech," Snow teases.

"From me? Never. I'll leave those to you, dear," Regina replies, bending her finger so the baby can suck on her knuckle. Her eyes are so alert, so blue, so Robin's. Regina subconsciously tightens her hold on the little girl, wondering how long it will be before she'll have her own name. When she does, she'll be named for so many incredible women and Regina, apparently, among them. She smiles knowing Robin's daughter will share her name, but not her destiny. This little girl will carve out her own future, her own goals, her own life with resilience and strength. She'll be queen of herself, fulfilling her namesake in more ways than one. Long live the littlest queen.


	3. How To Be A Big Brother

Roland's not allowed to hold his sister. Well, he's allowed to if he's sitting down and if Papa or Regina are with him, but besides that, he's not allowed to hold her. Henry can hold her. Henry's older, Papa told him and so Henry's stronger. Roland strongly disagrees with that. There's no way Henry is stronger than him because whenever they play fight in the backyard, Roland always wins. Always! So he must be stronger than Henry. He's sure he could hold his sister if he tried, but Papa told him to never pick Morgan up because she could get hurt if he dropped her.

Duuuuh, Papa (Henry taught him what 'duh' means, but he said to never actually say it to any grownups because they'd get mad).

Still, Roland wants to help take care of Morgan because she's _his_ sister, after all. She's Henry's too, he guesses, but Henry's used to being the big brother. This is Roland's first time ever not being the youngest. Regina said that's a big responsibility, being a big brother. She said that big brothers are supposed to protect their little sisters and that little sisters look up to their big brothers. Roland likes the thought of that- having someone look up to him for once.

He's going to be the best big brother _ever._ Or at least, he's going to be as good as Henry. Henry is already the best big brother ever. Although, being the big brother means not getting to lick the spoon when Regina makes brownies and Roland's not entirely sure that's a good deal. But Morgan's still too little to lick spoons, so Roland figures he has a while before he has to give that up.

Roland wishes he had a brownie right now as his stomach growls for probably the thirty-seventeenth time. Regina is taking _forever_ on the phone even though they're supposed to be eating lunch right now. Papa is waiting for them at Granny's with Henry. Roland wants a cheeseburger with french fries and a banana split, but only if Henry will eat the cherries for him. Cherries are yucky.

He swings his legs back and forth from his spot on the couch and twists around to see if Regina's anywhere close to being off the phone yet. She's not talking, so she must be listening. Maybe the person she's talking to is telling her to hang up and take her kids to get a cheeseburger and banana split. Roland hopes so.

"No, I understand, but-" Regina starts saying, her eyebrows scrunching together when she stops. She's been wearing her queen face the whole time. She must not like whoever she's talking to. Maybe it's Mr. Leroy. He always makes Regina wear her queen face.

Roland sighs and flops back against the back of the couch, legs dangling over the edge. If he doesn't eat something soon, his stomach is going to eat itself. Can stomachs do that? He hopes not because he won't have a tummy much longer if they do. Maybe that would be a good thing. Papa told him he gets grumpy when he doesn't eat. Roland doesn't think that's true, but Morgan suddenly starts making funny gurgling noises in her carseat on the floor, and he finds he doesn't want to smile at her like he normally does. He just wants a cheeseburger.

"No, you listen to me," Regina snaps. She starts using her queen voice to match her queen face and Roland cringes. She only talks like that to him when he's about to go on time-out. Maybe the person she's talking to needs to go on time out. Whoever it is must've done something really bad to make Regina so mad.

Roland's tummy growls again and he flops over sideways on the couch. He's going to _die_ if he doesn't eat something soon. He glances over at the bag next to Morgan's carseat. Sometimes Regina packs puffy cereal for Morgan to eat when she gets hungry. Maybe she packed some today…

Morgan makes another noise then, but it's not like the gurgling from earlier. It's like the sound she makes when she needs her diaper changed or when she's tired and needs to take a nap. Oh no. Roland sits up just as Morgan starts to cry, tiny fists shaking. This isn't going to make Regina happier. Roland twists around to look at her then and she's pinching the middle of her nose, phone still pressed to her ear. That's not a good sign.

Roland slides off the couch and crouches in front of Morgan, looking around to see if there's anything he can do to make her stop crying so Regina can pay attention to her phone call and get done with it sooner. Maybe Morgan's hungry too. Roland pulls the big blue bag on his lap and rifles through the pockets. There's diapers and wipes and new clothes and tissues and an empty bottle, but no puffy cereal. Oh! A pass- a pack- a pashifider. Yeah, one of those things. They always make Morgan stop crying!

Roland pulls it out of the pocket and holds it gently against his sister's mouth, smiling proudly when she goes quiet. That is, until she spits it out and starts wailing again. Darn it. He turns around to look at Regina again and ooh, he knows that look. She only ever gives Papa that look when she's really mad. That person on the phone must be doing something really bad.

He starts searching through the bag again, pulling out stuff he doesn't even know the names for and tossing them to the floor. No, not that… nope… not this either… nuh uh… wait! There it is! Puffy cereal!

Roland pulls the container out and flips the lid off quickly, some of the star shapes spilling onto his lap. He takes a piece and holds it against Morgan's mouth, scrunching his nose up when she eats part of his finger with the cereal. Ewwww, he grimaces, wiping his finger on his shirt. Babies can be gross sometimes. Still, she's not crying anymore. Roland beams when she reaches for the container in his hands. He takes another piece and places it in her mouth, yanking his hand away before she gets slobber on his finger again. He pops a few pieces in his own mouth. It's not a cheeseburger, that's for sure, but it'll do for now.

Regina hangs up just as Roland places another piece of cereal in Morgan's mouth. Regina lets out a lot of breath all at once and then her heels are clicking on the floor as she comes to squat beside them. Roland grins up at her. "Look, Regina!" he exclaims, holding up the cereal container. "I made Morgan stop crying!"

"That you did," Regina agrees, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. "Thank you, that was very kind."

"You had your queen face on," Roland explains solemnly. "I didn't want you to get more mad."

Regina shakes her head. "I wasn't mad because Morgan was crying. I was mad because people don't always listen to me when they're supposed to."

Roland gasps. "But you're the _queen._ Everyone should listen to you."

Regina smiles and starts putting all the stuff Roland had pulled out back into the bag. "I'll remember you said that the next time you don't want to take a bath."

Oh, he hadn't thought of that. Maybe there are _some_ times people don't have to listen to the queen. Like bathtime. And bedtime. And waking up time. Those times are the _worst._

"Come on, I believe a cheeseburger is long overdue," Regina continues, standing up with the bag over her shoulder.

"And a banana split?" Roland adds eagerly, scrambling to his feet.

"Well, of course. Only the best big brothers get banana splits," Regina replies with a smile, picking up Morgan's carseat.

Roland beams and takes the hand she holds out for him. Wait until Henry hears about _this._ He'll definitely eat the cherries for Roland now. After all, the best big brothers have to look out for each other. And maybe Roland can't hold Morgan by himself yet, but he sure can take care of her and that's what big brothers are supposed to do, even if they don't get to lick brownie spoons. Roland thinks he can live with that.


	4. Love Letters

Robin

I hope this letter finds you well. It has been exactly 23 days since we last saw each other and normally, I try not to mark how much time has passed, but considering what that number means to the two of us, I thought today would be appropriate to reach out to you for what may well be the first and last time.

I've sent this letter to the address of Neal's apartment. I hope you've somehow managed to find yourself there and that this letter reaches you. I also hope that you and Marian have been able to find work. If not, please write me back and I'll see what I can do about sending you more money until you can secure a job. I wanted to remind you to enroll Roland in school as soon as you're settled. He's old enough to be in kindergarten and all children are required to attend school. I'd say tell him his majesty says hello, but I think it'd be best if he didn't hear from me.

Life here in Storybrooke has surprisingly been calm. Henry started eighth grade last week and I can't believe how grown-up he is. Snow has smartly stepped aside as mayor and let me reclaim the office. Seeing as she is much better suited to handle preschoolers than politicians, I think we're both grateful for the change. Your men have started looking for respectable work around town, although I'd wager you would argue thieving is a fine profession to have. They always ask if I've heard from you and it pains me every time I say no. I know not being in contact is the easiest way to handle this, but a selfish part of me wishes it didn't have to be that way. I know this letter will most likely do more harm than good, but… I just can't help it.

It's funny- ever since the curse was broken, I have wished for nothing more than for peace and quiet to come to Storybrooke. Now that it's here, though, I realize it's not all I want. I feel it in the quiet moments- when I'm on lunch break with no one to eat with, when Henry stays at Emma's and my house is empty for the night, when the demons in the dark become too much and I need someone to talk to. Yes, life is quiet and peaceful here in Storybrooke, but I would gladly welcome a thousand crises and villains if it meant the calm wasn't so empty. I said to Henry the other day that I have never been as happy as I was when it was just us and our sons. I want to get back to that, though I know hoping is futile.

Still, I hope. I hope you find some kind of happiness wherever you and your family end up. I hope Roland adjusts well and that he thrives under the love and guidance of his parents. I hope you and Marian find steady jobs and live comfortably in the strange world in which you've found yourselves. I hope you stop blaming yourself for all this because I know you still do. And, selfish as it may be, I hope you don't forget me. We may not be able to be together anymore, but our separation is not an invalidation of what we once had. I still love you. I probably always will, no matter how far away you are. And although this letter is a sorry substitution for seeing you with my own eyes and talking to you with my own lips, I hope it assures you that no matter what, I will always be here for you, regardless of distance and broken hearts.

I ask that you don't try to contact me unless absolutely necessary. As hurtful as this sudden separation has been for the both of us, trying to maintain any type of fruitless communication would probably not be beneficial. I wish you the best and I hope, someday, you'll find it.

Love always,

Regina

* * *

Regina,

I must tell you your letter surprised me to say the least. The moment I saw it, I was surprised, then confused, then practically ecstatic. I didn't open it right away in favor of staring at your handwriting on the envelope, tracing it over and over again until the ink started to wear away. When I did open it, I couldn't read your words at first because I was too enraptured by the smell of the paper. It smelled like you, my love, and it took every ounce of my willpower to not spend the entire day just breathing in your scent. That was the first time I was able to truly breathe since we parted.

I'm glad Storybrooke is peaceful for once. It eases many of my fears knowing you are not in mortal peril every other day. I can only hope it stays that way.

I wish I could ease your loneliness, milady. I know exactly what you mean when you say the calm is empty. I have my son and you have yours, but when the caring for our children is done at the end of the day, who is there to care for our hearts and ease our minds? I find myself thinking of you in the quiet moments, similar to those of which you wrote. It's in the darkness at night that I long for you the most, your soul like a soothing balm to my own. I feel like a man scorched and burned and only you possess the relief I seek.

I apologize if I'm being overly sentimental or dramatic, but my need for you is neither of those things. My need for you is real and constricting. My lungs refuse to breathe until we once more share the same air. This city is clogged with air thick like smoke and I long for the fresh air of home and of you.

Roland starts school next week and while Marian and I are hesitant about leaving him somewhere without us, we know it's what's best for him. He's a smart boy and he deserves to be given the best in ways of learning. He's asked about you many times. I never know what to tell him other than you're back in Storybrooke with Henry. I think he thinks this is like that pesky year we couldn't remember back in the Enchanted Forest except this time, instead of you being separated from Henry, we are separated from both of you. I can only hope this separation might one day end in the same way yours and Henry's did.

I've found work at a bar down the street. Believe it or not, this outlaw once knew how to make an honest living, although I must confess you were correct regarding my perception of thieving. Marian has found work as a seamstress at a nearby tailor shop. She's always been skilled with a needle. So thank you, milady, for offering to assist us further, but you needn't have. I think we'll be just fine.

I'm loathe to draw this letter to some kind of conclusion because I feel as if I'm speaking directly to you as I write. The sun, however, is rising and Roland soon with it, so I must regrettably stop somewhere. I know you asked me not to write you unless absolutely necessary, and I am loathe to disrespect your wishes but, my love, this is absolutely necessary. It is necessary for me to know you are well and safe and that you haven't forgotten me, just as I haven't forgotten you. I doubt I ever could. My soul could never forget what it's other half felt like.

I don't expect a response from you, seeing as you wish not to be in communication, but know that no matter what, my love for you will not falter. As you said, distance and broken hearts aside, wherever I go in this strange world, my heart will always be yours.

All my love,

Robin


	5. Worth

The only thing beating faster than the horses' hooves is Robin's heart. It's a moonless night, deathly dark and frighteningly thick, the edge of the forest barely distinguishable from the open space of the glen. Regina's arms are tight around his back, her breath ragged and quick against his neck. His memory and educated guesses are the only things guiding them as they thunder toward cover, the queen's men hot on their heels.

The knights won't go into Sherwood Forest, not with all the rumors of ghosts and hauntings, and so Robin thunders on, hoping his memory is enough to get them safely beyond the trees. There's a shout behind them, something indecipherable among the commotion of the chase and as Robin's horse crosses the treeline, the sound of the queen's horses quickly dissipates as he and Regina push into the forest. Low branches catch on Robin's face as they blindly stumble through the wood, but the deeper they go, the safer he feels as the noise of the queen's knights ceases completely.

He chances a look behind them and exhales when the only sight that greets him is the black blanket of the forest at night. He pulls up on the reins and his horse slows to a stop, circling around in the small clearing in which they've found themselves. He takes several deep breaths, calming his thundering heart and turns to Regina. "You alright?" he breathes.

She nods, breathing just as heavily as he. "Yeah," she gasps, dropping her arms from around him and jumping down from the horse.

Robin bends forward and pats his horse's neck before sliding down to the ground as well. "They didn't hurt you?" he asks, keeping his eyes trained on her back so as to not lose her in the dark.

She shakes her head, hair loose around her face, braid almost completely undone. "No," she exhales, bending over and putting her hands on her knees.

Robin nods even though she can't see it and looks around, trying to recognize anything near them that might indicate which direction they should go. "I think we're near the north stream," he guesses. "If we head west, we should run into the waterfalls and then we can follow the river back to camp. Of course, it's impossible to see in the dark like this, so it'd probably be best if we walk. Don't want to risk having the horse sprain an ankle or-"

"Robin, I'm not going back to camp with you," Regina interrupts softly, her back still to him.

He stares at her incredulously. "Don't be ridiculous. After tonight, I'm not letting you out of my sight again."

"No, Robin, I can't," Regina insists, straightening and turning to face him. "I won't. I won't put you and your men in danger."

Robin scoffs. "I've faced my fair share of danger. I think I can handle this."

Regina shakes her head and takes a step toward him. "The queen knows about you. About you and your men. I won't have you dying because of me," she states, meeting his eyes and then looking away.

"I always thought dying would be an awfully big adventure," Robin attempts to joke, smirk rising and falling with the unamused look she gives him.

"Robin, be serious," she mutters.

"I am being serious," he counters, reaching out to lightly grasp her bicep. "I'm serious that you're coming back with me." He ducks his head to catch her gaze. "I'm not leaving you to fend for yourself. Not with all those knights looking for you. Not if I can do something to help you."

"You've already given me your help," she argues, shaking off his hand. "I don't need any more of it."

"Well, considering I just rescued you from the queen's castle, I'd argue that you do."

"I told you- I'm not putting you and your men in anymore danger," Regina repeats with a glare.

"And I told you we can handle it," Robin counters.

Regina fists her hands in her hair and closes her eyes. "Don't you get it?" she snaps, eyes blowing wide open. "If you help me, you'll end up hurt or dead! The queen will hunt you down and kill you and for what? For helping some stupid girl who can't even save herself from a bunch of idiot black knights? I can't ask that of you, I can't risk you getting hurt because I can't lose you!"

Robin exhales, looking from her eyes to the forest floor and back again. He reaches out to touch her arm or her hand or just her in general, but she moves back, crossing her arms and turning away.

"So many people have died because of me," she says softly. "People I care about. I can't lose you too." She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

Robin runs a hand through his hair and over his face. He takes a tentative step toward her. "To be fair, milady," he replies, "If anything happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself either."

Regina shudders out a breath. If there was a moon in the sky, its light would have glinted in the tear escaping from the corner of her eye. "I'm not worth your life, Robin," she insists quietly.

Robin takes another step until he's standing in front of her. He reaches out a tentative hand to touch her cheek, waiting to see if she moves away from him again. When she doesn't, he brushes his fingers against her skin, stroking his thumb to catch the stray tear. "I think I get to decide what my life is worth," he murmurs, bringing his other hand up to cup her other cheek. He gently lifts her head until her eyes meet his. "And if my life is worth a single star," he continues, "Yours is worth the entire night sky."

Her breath rushes out of her all at once, bottom lip quivering. She closes her eyes again and another tear leaks out, meeting the pad of Robin's thumb instantly. He takes one more half-step until there's barely any space left between their bodies, his face hovering dangerously close to hers. He runs his eyes all over her features, stopping on the lips that have pouted and smiled and mesmerized him all these weeks.

"I'm a death wish," she breathes, leaning into him.

Robin runs the tip of his nose along the length of hers. "Then promise you'll kill me softly," he whispers, lips brushing against hers. He stills, waiting, and a moment passes, but then she's leaning up and pressing their mouths firmly together. It's soft and gentle, a slow movement of lips meeting and parting only to meet again with more gusto and force. It's then, in that moment, as Regina winds her arms around his waist, that Robin knows it doesn't matter if she comes back to camp with him. She can go wherever she wants. He will follow her to the end of the world.


	6. Hath No Fury

He is tired. Bone tired. Could sleep for a hundred years, wake up, and sleep for a hundred more. Regina said he'd probably feel groggy for awhile- getting dragged around by a Fury from hell all day takes quite a toll on the human body, he's learned. All he wants to do is go back to the mansion, tuck his boy in, and then collapse into bed with Regina wrapped around him. But his son has other ideas.

Roland wants to go to Granny's. Roland wants to go to Granny's because Henry is going to Granny's and there is nothing Henry does that Roland doesn't want to do as well. Robin would have said no, would have told Roland they can get Granny's another time, but after the day they've had, he doesn't want to let his boy think anything is wrong and turning down Granny's definitely would have been a warning sign that something was up.

So he agreed. Removed himself from Regina's arms- even though she had been supporting a good portion of his weight- and scooped his son into his arms, Granny's-bound. Regina had frowned, said he shouldn't overexert himself, but she came along all the same, hand firmly grasping his own as they walked. He had scared her today, he knows from the way she stays close to him, eyes glancing around as if searching for anything that might separate them again. But she had saved him, brought him back from the brink with her strength and resilience and light and so maybe she walks closer to him than usual and maybe he squeezes her hand more often than normal, but they've had a long day. They've earned the right to be wary and protective.

They're still a block away from Granny's when Robin's arms start to shake. It's from carrying Roland for so long, and normally such a distance wouldn't phase him, but, well, Hell Fury and all that.

Regina notices and rests a hand on his bicep. "Put him down," she orders softly. "He can hold my hand."

Robin sighs in acquiescence and sets Roland down on the pavement. "Are you okay walking, son?" he asks, straightening out the little boy's jacket.

Roland nods. "Uh huh. Are _you_ okay walking, Papa?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Your legs are all wiggly."

Robin looks down at the same time Regina does and sure enough, his knees are trembling. He hadn't realized it, but now that something's been said, his legs are indeed starting to feel an awful lot like jelly.

Regina exhales in admonishment. "I told you," she mutters, reaching for Roland's hand. "We should get you home. You need to rest."

"I'm fine," Robin dismisses, placing his hand on the small of her back and giving her a gentle push forward. "Don't argue with me- I'm a dead man walking, remember?"

Regina glares at him over her shoulder.

"Uh, right. No jokes," Robin says sheepishly as Regina gives Roland's hand a tug and starts walking across the street. Robin blows a long breath out of his mouth and follows, wishing he had Regina's arm around him again to steady his wiggly knees.

When they get to Granny's, Henry is already there with Snow, David, and baby Neal, as are several of the dwarves (including poor Sneezy, still solid stone from Emma's tricks). Roland practically pulls Regina into the diner, eager to get something to eat and spend time with the people who have quickly become his favorites. He scampers over to the booth just behind the Charmings and crawls up onto the seat, little legs swinging back and forth in excitement.

Regina takes the seat across from Roland and so Robin slides in next to his son, trying not to show how grateful he is to sit down. It doesn't get past Regina though (nothing ever does), and she gives him a pointed look, one that shouts 'I told you so,' but she doesn't say anything and reaches for a menu tucked behind the napkin holder. Robin takes a menu as well, but he doesn't bother reading it. He's not hungry and if he's being quite honest, he's felt rather nauseous since they've left the lake. Side effects, he guesses.

But Roland is probably starving since they haven't had a chance to eat dinner with all the excitement of the day, so he should at least order something for his son. He turns to ask his boy just what he would like to eat, but he's greeted by his son's rear end instead of his face. Robin turns more fully, arm resting on the back of the booth as he studies his son in amusement. "Roland, what are you doing?" he asks.

Roland is, in fact, leaning over the back of the booth, sticking his head in between Snow and Charming who are regarding him with smiles on their faces. "I'm looking at the baby, Papa," Roland answers matter-of-factly, ducking his head down closer to the bundle in Snow's arms.

"That's not how we sit at a table, is it?" Robin admonishes.

Roland grins mischievously, caught, and turns around in the booth, sitting back down properly.

"Thank you," Robin says, resisting the urge to rub his temples. The harsh lights of the diner are doing no favors for his nausea or the dull throb growing behind his left eye. Regina was right- they should have just gone home.

"We should have a baby," Roland states plainly, legs swinging beneath the table.

Robin winces, fingers pressing tight against the menu's edge. _That wish will come true sooner than you think,_ he gripes to himself, daring to look up at Regina after a moment. She is pointedly not looking back at him.

"A baby, huh?" Robin echoes, eyes dropping back down. "What makes you say that?"

Roland shrugs. "Because babies are cool. And you said when two people love each other very much, then they decide to have a baby. And you said you love Regina very much, so you should have a baby."

Robin bites down on the inside of his cheek. Of all the topics of conversation, his son just had to choose this one. "I think that's getting a little ahead of ourselves, son," he replies, managing to keep his tone relatively calm despite his mounting irritation. Regina is still not looking at him, but he can feel the tension radiating off her. They haven't had time to discuss any baby-related matters yet, and as far as he can tell, it's still a rather sore subject for her (not that it's his favorite topic either).

"But Papa, if you had a baby, then I could be a big brother! Like Henry!" Roland continues excitedly. "And you could be the papa and Regina could be the mama!"

Robin closes his eyes for a second, inhales, exhales, teeth gritting together. His son doesn't mean to irritate him. He's probably completely oblivious to the effects his words are having on both adults at the table, but Robin's temper is short and his patience thin, he's grouchy and tired and the last thing he wants to do is talk about babies and who is and isn't having one.

Luckily, Regina's saves him not for the first time that day. "But I'm already a mama, sweetheart," she replies, finally looking up from her menu. "And your papa's already a papa. We don't need a baby to be those things."

"Yeah, but you're not a mama and a papa _together,"_ Roland insists. "If you had a baby, then you would be!" He bounces excitedly in his seat. "And then we'd be like a real family!"

"Love makes a family, Roland. Not babies," Regina sighs.

But the little boy is not to be deterred. "Yeah, but a baby would still be fun! Then we'd have a Baby Neal all our own! So can we have a baby, Papa?" Roland pleads, turning to his father.

"Son, now is not the time to-"

"Please, Papa? Please, _please-"_

"Roland, I said-"

"But Papa-"

"Enough, Roland!" Robin snaps, dropping his fist to the tabletop with more force than necessary, causing both Regina and Roland to jump in their seats.

His anger lasts for a second more and then dissipates completely, leaving nothing but guilt and exhaustion in its wake. Roland looks like a kicked puppy, mouth pouty and eyes wide with confusion about what exactly he did to warrant such a reaction from his father. Regina watches him steadily, probably waiting to see if she needs to jump in and fix the damage he's just caused. He has half a mind to let her, but she's saved his ass enough today. He can handle this on his own.

Robin runs a hand down his face and then turns to face Roland beside him. He exhales and puts a hand on his son's shoulder. "Listen, my boy. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm sorry for that. But Papa has had a very long day and he's very tired. So maybe we save all the talk about babies and mamas and papas for another time, okay?"

Roland nods dejectedly, bottom lip still jutting out.

"Hey, look at me," Robin insists gently, ducking his head until he can catch his son's eye. "How about we make a deal? We'll stop talking about babies tonight, but you can ask me all the questions in the world later, when I'm not so grumpy. Sound good?"

Roland's mouth twists to the side for a moment, debating his father's terms, before he nods and sticks out his hand. "Deal," he agrees, smiling again when they shake on it.

Robin grins and kisses Roland's forehead. Well, at least he can make up for being a momentarily shit father. Not that that solves any of the other problems currently keeping his life in a chokehold, but it's something.

The bell to the front door sounds and Robin glances back to see Little John and Will ambling into the diner. He turns back to Roland. "Hey, look who just walked in."

His son rises up on his knees to peer over the back of the booth and gasps excitedly when he sees the two Merry Men. "Uncle John! Uncle Will!" he giggles.

"Why don't you go say hello?" Robin suggests.

The words are barely out of his mouth before Roland is clamoring over his lap in his haste to greet his uncles. He slides down to floor and makes to scamper over to the two men, but he stops and spins back around. "Papa, don't you dare yell at Regina," he tells Robin sternly. "I don't care if you're grumpy. You should never ever yell at her, ever. She's _my_ majesty and that means I get to protect her, so if you yell at her, then you have to deal with me." He points to himself and then puts his hands on his hips. "Got it?"

Robin nearly manages to suppress his smile, but the corners of his mouth quirk up all the same. "Got it," he promises, his words being enough to satisfy his son and send him off toward his uncles. Robin chuckles and shakes his head, turning back to face Regina who is surprisingly looking at him quite haughtily, a cool smile on her face.

"What?" Robin asks.

"He's right. You better not yell at me," she explains in her queen voice, but he knows she's teasing.

Robin sighs and shakes his head. "I'd never yell at you," he mutters, looking back down at his menu. "I just don't want to talk about babies. Not tonight."

Regina shrugs. "Fair enough." A beat. "But we do have a lot to discuss about babies."

Robin gives in and rubs his temples. "Yeah. Yeah, we do," he concedes, leaning his head against his hand.

Regina looks at him for a moment and then drops her gaze, nodding. "But not tonight. Another time."

Well, thank god for that, at least. It's a conversation they need to have, obviously, but not when he's just escaped death an hour prior. They need to talk when it's just the two of them and they can lay it all out there. And also when there's plenty of whiskey on hand. Lots and lots of whiskey.

"Hopefully when I won't cock it all up like I just did with Roland," Robin sighs. He wants to go home. They should just go home.

"That… could have been handled better, yes," Regina admits. She offers a sympathetic smile. "But you made up for it. And that's what matters. I'm sure Roland won't hold it against you."

"I wouldn't blame him if he did."

Regina tilts her head in admonishment. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"This self-loathing thing you've been sporting for the past few days. I don't hate you, Roland doesn't hate you, so stop hating yourself. It's not going to do you any good."

"Is that queen's orders?" he teases weakly.

"No, that's sound advice from your girlfriend," Regina corrects with a smile.

"Ah," Robin concedes, trying to return her smile but failing miserably, resorting to just dropping his gaze back down to the menu.

"Hey," Regina says softly, reaching for his hand. She laces their fingers together and squeezes, waiting until he looks up at her to speak. "I love you."

Smiling is easier this time, tiredness and headache and babies aside. It's not the first time she's said it, those three words, but it's still rather new for them, still exciting in a butterflies kind of way, and he's yet to tire of hearing those words wrapped up in the ribbons of her voice.

He brings her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. "I love you too," he replies sincerely, always earnestly when it comes to love and Regina. She's not an easy one to convince of her own worth, her own deservingness of love and devotion, and so he makes sure to never tell her lightly how much of his heart she owns. "God knows why you put up with me," he sighs, setting her hand back down on the table.

Regina shrugs and settles back against the booth. "You know how to pick a good bottle of whiskey," she quips nonchalantly. "And the sex is fantastic."

He laughs louder than he means to, especially when Snow abruptly turns around, eyes wide.

"Regina," she admonishes, scandalized.

"What?" Regina defends. "Roland's distracted over by the counter and Henry's not… wait a minute, where is Henry?" She looks around, searching the diner for her son.

Robin glances around, wondering how he could have missed the teenager pass their table, until his eyes settle on the jukebox in the far corner. His smile spreads slowly across his face. "Check the jukebox, love," he says, cocking his head in Henry's direction.

Regina twists around and Robin fights against a laugh as her shoulders visibly tense. If only he could see her face. "Isn't that one of the lasses who came over with our new Camelot residents?" Robin asks, studying Henry's new 'friend.'

"Yes. It is," Regina says coolly, voice dangerously low. "What exactly does she think she's doing with _my_ son?"

"Henry's probably helping her… adjust to Storybrooke," Robin answers. He can't help adding with a grin: "Like you did with me."

Regina whips around, eyes wide. "There will be none of _that_ happening. Absolutely not."

Robin chuckles. "I'm sure it's all innocent, my love. A first crush is hardly anything to be worried about."

"You say that now. But just wait until all the girls start coming for Roland. Then you might change your mind," Regina states as she makes to stand.

Robin shakes his head. "Where are you going?"

Regina straightens her jacket and pulls herself up to her full height (which, to be honest, isn't very much, but he'll pretend to be intimidated by the diluted wrath of the former Evil Queen if that's what she wants). "I'm going to extend the mayor's welcome to Henry's new… friend," Regina explains with a hint of mischief. "I won't be long."

"Go easy on them, love," Robin calls after her with a chuckle, laughing again when Regina releases Sneezy from his stone confines with a simple snap of her fingers as she makes her way over to Henry and the Camelot girl.

Robin lets out a deep breath and relaxes back against the booth, tilting his head from side to side, trying to relieve the tension and tiredness in his muscles.

"How are you feeling?" Snow asks from behind him.

Robin twists around to see her properly and nods wearily. "Exhausted. I want to sleep for three days," he admits.

"Oh, I'd imagine," Snow empathizes, rubbing her son's back as she slowly rocks him to sleep on her shoulder. She smiles. "But you're laughing again, and I haven't seen you do that since before you left for New York."

Robin offers a half-hearted grin. "It's been… a long kind of hell the past few days."

Snow reaches out and touches his shoulder. "I know. But you haven't let it keep you down and that's what matters. Furies from hell notwithstanding."

He chuckles and looks up to meet her eyes. "Thank you, by the way. For what you did at the lake. I… I never expected… I didn't think… I was just surprised, I guess, that you and David would… do something like that… for me."

Snow tilts her head in mild surprise. "Robin, of course we'd help you. You're part of our family now. And Regina was willing to… well, I don't really know what would have happened to her, but we weren't about to let her get hurt either. The two of you, I mean, you've had it really hard lately. We weren't about to let your story end that way."

Robin looks down and tries to find something to say to that. He'd heard stories about the giving and accepting nature of Princess Snow and her Prince Charming, but he never thought he'd experience it firsthand. They've taken him in without question, without prejudice, with the only stipulation being that he treat Regina right, and despite a few bobbles here and there, he's managed to not only earn their acceptance, but a spot in their family as well. And to think he once hated royals with every fiber of his being.

"And you know," Snow continues in wake of Robin's silence, "If Roland ever gets baby fever again, he's always welcome to come over and play with Neal."

Robin closes his eyes for a second. "You, uh, heard that, huh?"

"Kinda hard not to," Snow admits sheepishly. "But I get it. Kids always seem to push just the right buttons without even knowing what they're doing."

Robin looks over at his son, laughing with his two uncles by the counter. "I just feel terrible. He's oblivious to everything that's gone on and he doesn't even remember what happened in New York. He's completely innocent and yet he keeps getting hurt by me or Zelena or… me _and_ Zelena." Robin shakes his head. "I want to do right by my son. But it's been so hard lately."

Snow touches his shoulder again. "Everything will be fine. Regina's helping, right?"

Robin smiles. "Yeah. She… she always helps."

"Then it'll be alright." Snow shifts Neal on her shoulder. "You've gotten through a lot already. You just have to keep going."

Regina interrupts him before he can say anything more as she slides into his side of the booth with a heavy sigh. "My son is a teenager," she groans, turning herself until she's facing both Robin and Snow.

"Did it go horribly wrong?" Robin asks overdramatically, reaching out to grasp her bicep.

"No," Regina answers miserably. "It went fine. I guess. But he kept _blushing_ and then got all embarrassed when I said I was his mother and it was just _awful."_

"What's going on?" Snow asks.

"Henry has a girlfriend."

"Henry does _not_ have a girlfriend," Regina insists. "He has a… girl… person… who he doesn't even know that well."

"Well, you and I didn't know each other all that well, but all it took was one kiss and-"

Regina punches him in the arm, hard. "Don't even _think_ about implying that," she warns as Robin feigns hurt and nurses his injury.

"Sure, attack the man who almost died today," he whines.

Regina rolls her eyes, but reaches out and rubs his arm anyway. "Sorry," she mutters. "I don't handle change well."

Robin's about to tell her it's okay, he understands, but a yawn cuts him off.

Regina gives him that look, the one that tell him he better not argue with her as she states, "I think it's about time we head home and get you into bed."

A joke about her phrasing is on the tip of his tongue, but another yawn interrupts him, so he justs nods and acquiesces. That's all he's wanted since they've walked through the door anyway.

Regina calls Roland over and then Henry, a noticeable purse coming to her lips when he takes a little too long saying goodbye to the Camelot girl. Robin squeezes her hand and she gives him a miserable pout in response. There really can't be too much harm in the first girl Henry's ever shown interest in, but her son is growing up and Robin knows that feeling, so he doesn't dismiss her misery and just squeezes her hand again.

"But Regina, I didn't get to eat anything yet," Roland points out as he climbs up into her lap.

"I'll fix you something at home, alright?" she bargains. "Papa isn't feeling well and he needs to rest."

"Cause of the furry?" Roland asks, looking over at his father.

"Because of the Fury, yes, my boy," Robin answers, combing his fingers through Roland's curls.

"I'll make you a grilled cheese when we get home. And some strawberries, too. Would you like that?" Regina asks as Henry comes trotting up to the table.

Roland nods and rests his head against Regina's chest, the long day finally wearing on his infinite energy. Regina kisses the top of his head and then looks up at Henry. "Ready to go?" she asks in a tone that only mildly suggests Henry better damn well be ready to go.

Luckily, he nods without a fight and reaches for Roland. "Here, I'll take him. You help Robin over there before he falls asleep sitting up."

Robin blinks, realizing that he had indeed started to doze already. He hides a yawn as Regina passes a suddenly sleepy Roland to Henry and then turns to face him. "I take it walking might be a little difficult?" she asks, hand finding his knee.

Robin yawns again and shakes his head. "I mean, I could manage, but if we could get home by another means, I certainly wouldn't object to it," he admits.

Regina turns to Henry. "Hold on to him, please," she instructs, gesturing toward Roland. Henry's arms tighten just as Regina raises her hands and purple smoke swirls up around the four of them, allowing Robin just a fraction of a second to wave goodbye to Snow before the diner dissolves around them.

When the smoke clears, they're in the foyer of Regina's house. Robin wobbles on his feet, but Regina shoots out an arm and steadies him. She brings a hand up to his cheek and steps closer. "You head up to bed," she says softly. "I'll take care of the boys."

Robin rubs his eyes and nods wordlessly. He looks over at Roland who is struggling to keep his own eyes open against Henry's shoulder and feels both guilty and thankful at the same time. Guilty that he can't even manage to put his own son to bed at the moment, and thankful that the horrors of the day won't keep his boy up during the night. He has a wonderful son, and whatever he did to deserve him, he'll never know. He goes over and kisses Roland's forehead, wishes him good dreams, and then squeezes Henry's shoulder, wishing him the same and thanking him for his help today.

"Do you need help up the stairs?" Regina asks as Robin starts to climb, gripping the railing tighter than normal.

He smiles tiredly at her, loving her concern for him, but he's not an invalid, he can manage a flight of stairs. "No, love, I'll be fine," he promises, dragging his feet up another step. He should be fine, he thinks, but by the time he makes it to the bedroom, he's wishing Regina had helped him after all.

The bed looks so inviting, like heaven waiting to welcome him with plush, Egyptian cotton arms, but he doesn't just feel tired, he feels dirty. Grimy. Sweaty. Like he had just come back from completing a particularly difficult heist in the middle of summer. And he doesn't want to get Regina's pristine bedding filthy, no matter how drawn to it he is. So he'll shower first. Shower, and then bed, and then sleep. Blissful, mind numbing sleep.

He turns on the water first, lets it run, lets the bathroom fill with healing steam, and shucks his clothes in the hamper (he'll have to do laundry later, for Regina, take one less thing off her to-do list). The water on his skin isn't as heavenly as the bed looked, but it's damn close. He stands under the stream, eyes closed, lungs filling with warm air, tension seeping out of muscles and swirling down the drain. He could sleep right here, just stay under the water until it runs cold or until he stops feeling tired, whichever comes first.

He doesn't know how long he's been in the shower when the bathroom door opens, but it's been long enough that he has to adjust the shower handle to make the water warmer as it had started to go slightly cold. A moment later, Regina steps into the shower with him, naked and wonderful and wordless. Robin steps to the side to allow her a place under the water and he's expecting a question, her asking why he hasn't gone to bed yet, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she wraps her arms around his middle and pulls him tightly to her, resting her head against his chest. Robin puts his arms around her back and she breathes deeply, fingers swirling soothingly along the dip in his spine.

She doesn't speak for a long while, but when she does, her words almost get lost in the steam. "You died," she whispers. Her voice shakes.

Robin exhales, long and slow, because she's right. He did die, or almost did, in the six weeks they suddenly can't remember. That's the whole reason why the Fury came after him. His soul was… unpaid for, or something like that. Why his soul was up for sale in the first place, he can't say. But Regina paid the price, paid for him, and now… now what? Now he has to wonder, did someone else die too? Did he kill someone? Did he die to protect Regina or Roland or Henry? Did Emma… did Emma have something to do with it?

He doesn't know. And his brain's too tired to dwell on it now and Regina is trembling slightly in his arms, so he pushes the what ifs out of his mind and breathes her in. "I know," he finally answers, his words tangling with her hair as he kisses the top of her head. He pulls back and ducks his gaze until she looks up at him. Her eyes are wide and searching and worried, probably wondering if what she did is enough, if he still might be taken from her.

He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, pausing when he feels something rough marring her skin. She looks down when he touches it, so he gently turns her head until he can see what marks her.

"What's this?" he asks, running a finger lightly over the jagged cut.

She shrugs. "Fury," is all she says.

Robin frowns, presses a featherlight kiss to her wound, and then pulls her back against him. She won't tell him, what she did to get him back, not right now. Just like he won't tell her, all the things he saw and felt and heard as the Fury dragged him around, not right now. Later, maybe, but not now. Now they need to sleep and heal and listen to each other's heartbeats. Sleep. Sleep was his goal when he first came up here and that is still his goal now, so he reaches for the handle and turns the water off with a squeak. He'll take a proper shower tomorrow (or maybe he won't, maybe he'll keep Regina in bed with him all day and not worry about anything beyond their bedroom door. That is, if he can somehow convince Regina to relax even the tiniest bit), and they'll deal with everything else tomorrow (Emma, Camelot, stolen memories, Henry's new female friend).

Robin steps out of the shower and pulls Regina with him, reaching for a plush white towel from the linen cabinet and wrapping it around her. She manages a smile as he vigorously rubs the water from her skin, pausing once to kiss her nose when she scrunches it. And that's all he's wanted since this day fell apart- to make her smile again, even if it's a shadow of the one he dreams about.

Regina takes the towel then, and turns it around on him, drying him more gently, taking her time over his ribs, his chest, pressing her lips just above his heart. And that's all she's wanted since this day fell apart- to touch him, hold him, make sure for herself that he is alive and well and hers. And he is hers, completely, totally, now to the end of time, so he kisses her once, lets it linger until some of the tension melts from her body and she grows pliant against him.

The towel gets tossed in the hamper and the light flicked off and then finally, Robin collapses into bed, drawing Regina down with him. She curls tightly against his side and holds him as close as possible, arms around his middle, legs tangled with his, head pillowed on his chest. She's more relaxed now, but still wary, still in protective mode, so he strokes his fingers up and down her bare back and kisses her forehead.

"I'm here, my love," he murmurs. "I'm not going anywhere."

She exhales, breath warm against his skin, and squeezes him just a little tighter. "I know," she whispers. She kisses over his heart again and somehow presses even closer to him. "I love you, you know."

Robin smiles, eyes already closed, consciousness already slipping away, limbs already heavy. "I know," he answers. "I love you too." She squeezes him close one more time and then Robin sighs and sleeps like the dead.


	7. Differences

_Hugs_

He likes to hug her, she's come to notice. He likes to pull her into his arms and hold her snugly against him, whether it's to calm her frazzled nerves, or soothe her burning temper, or reassure her of his love. He'll wrap an arm around her waist and another around her shoulders, stroking up and down her spine until tension melts from her body. His hugs are comforting, relaxing, and she rather likes how he envelopes all of her in his embrace, how his strong arms feel as they encircle her protectively. And his hugs are rather protective, she knows. He hugs to protect her heart, her mind, and- all too frequently- her life. That's what he always does when she escapes another near-death experience- hold her to him in a vice grip that leaves no room for her to breathe anything but the forest scent of him as he runs his hands over every inch of her he can reach, reminding them both that she is still there. She can't really say she minds.

She likes to hug him, he's come to notice. It's rather endearing, the almost shy way she embraces him, to ground herself after a taxing day, or to ease the stress that cords his muscles. She'll come up behind him when he's preoccupied with something- dinner, or bills, or work- and slip her arms around his waist, squeezing once in a rush of affection, before resting her forehead between his shoulder blades, nose pressing against his shirt. She tends to breathe deeply when she hugs him, slow, steady breaths that wash down his back as she exhales. He'll rest a hand on top of hers clasped just below his navel, gripping her fingers firmly to doubly reassure her that he's still here and that he's not going anywhere. She'll whisper what's troubling her mind when she has him in her arms, confessing to his back that she's scared, or stuck, or worried. It's then that he'll move, grasping her hand to spin her around into him so he can wrap her up in a proper hug, dotting kisses to her hair until her mind settles, allowing himself to breathe in the lavender scent of her while she rests safe in his embrace. He can't really say he minds.

* * *

 _Kisses_

He kisses her whenever he has the chance, she's realized. No matter where they are, or what they're doing, or who's around, if he has the opportunity to buss his lips against hers, he will. She'd been a bit embarrassed by it at first, since open affection had never really been her style, but she's come to appreciate the little drops of tenderness peppered throughout her day, especially when it feels like the whole world is against her. He keeps it chaste in public, or when the children are around, never goes beyond a gentle press of the lips, but as soon as they're in private, or the children are asleep, those appropriate pecks melt into sinful slides of tongue and teeth, his kisses changing from comfort to intoxication as her breath grows heavy and her toes curl in her shoes. Her heart never fails to flutter when he swoops in to steal her lips as she's making dinner, or frowning over meeting agendas, or struggling to keep her eyes open as she rocks the baby to sleep. And if she starts to seek out his kisses, turning her face expectantly toward his whenever he walks by, well, no one would dare point it out to her.

She kisses him when words escape her, he's realized. She had kissed him passionately, deeply when three little words had failed to form on her tongue, leaving her to express her love for him with her lips. She'll kiss him when she's angry, when she loves him but hates him, when she's furious that he would dare risk his life to save hers. She'll kiss him when she's sorry, when they've argued and tossed words carelessly about, when they both know that talking won't fix anything just yet, but when they can't stand to be apart any longer. She'll kiss him when she's desperate, when she can't find words because her mind is consumed by pleasure, begging him to push her over the edge by fusing their mouths together until she screams her release against his lips. She'll kiss him in the mornings, when he has to wake before her to take the early shift at work, when he rouses her briefly with a gentle kiss on her forehead. She'll tilt her head toward him, eyes still closed, mind still drowsy, searching for his mouth, a wordless goodbye and 'I love you' before the sun rises. And if he gets to end his day the same way it starts, with her lips on his- sweet or fiery depending on her mood- then he will certainly not be one to complain.

* * *

 _Cuddling_

He clings to her when they sleep, she's discovered. He always holds her, must hold her, keeps her wrapped up tightly in his arms through his slumber. She suspects it's a comfort for him, being able to touch her at night, after so many weeks spent without her by his side. She never minds, loves falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the feel of his breath on her skin. If she rolls away from him in the middle of the night, he'll reach for her across the bed and pull her back into his embrace, much like a child would a teddy bear, until he can tuck his nose into her hair, arms tight around her body to keep her just where he needs her. He does that when his sleep is troubled, he's told her. When dreams turn into nightmares and he can't escape whatever darkness is swirling in his mind, he'll press his nose into her hair, and breathe deeply until his heart stops racing and the horror of his dreams is replaced with the warmth of her smile. She imagines his arms probably fall asleep on a nightly basis with her weight constantly pressing on them, but he never says anything, and she'll never complain about getting to sleep with him invading her every sense.

She claims she doesn't cuddle, but that's a blatant lie, he's discovered. She insists that he is the one to initiate any cuddling between them, but he knows that is just not true. There are times he's woken in the middle of the night to find her sprawled completely on top of him, her always-cold nose pressed snugly against his neck. She uses him like a personal mattress, or on particularly cold nights, a personal blanket, reaching to pull him on top of her along with the sheet and duvet. When he deigned to take a nap on the couch one afternoon, he awoke to find her curled up against his chest, having wedged herself between his side and the back of the couch to join him for a bit of shuteye before dinner. Whenever she's had too much to drink, her usual detached attitude morphs into something touchy and adoring, and it seems she cannot go five seconds without tucking herself under his arm, soaking in all the cuddles she gets on a daily basis but refuses to acknowledge. He'll let her insist she does not cuddle, because he knows the rather adorable truth, and the is for him alone to enjoy.


	8. Tuesday Nights

Robin walks into the Rabbit Hole, tired, irritated, and hungry. He's asked Emma to stop giving him such late hours, he has a family to take care of and young children who like to rise earlier than the sun on most days, and he really can't afford to stay at the station until midnight. But Emma had had a rough week, a lingering chest cold that wouldn't clear up and so when she asked Robin to switch shifts with her so she could get some sound hours of sleep, he relented and agreed to help her out, at least for this week.

But his charity doesn't do much to abate his irritation and exhaustion, voluntarily imposed or not. Between answering public disturbance calls and mediating petty disputes, his patience has worn very thin. He's almost done, just has to check on the bar to make sure there are no rowdy drunks causing problems and then he can head home to the warmth of a sleepy Regina, knowing the station has been left in David's capable hands for the remainder of the night and early morning.

Robin nods to the bartender as he enters, eyes perusing over the dimly lit room. It's not full, it is a Tuesday night after all, but there are still people shooting pool, eating at the tables, drinking at the bar. No one seems to be dangerously intoxicated and no fights seem to be brewing, so Robin's about to just walk through once and then make for home, but then he sees a familiar face sitting at the far end of the bar.

Killian has a nearly empty tumbler of what can only be rum in his hand, and from the disheveled state of his hair and the droopiness of his eyelids, it seems he's been imbibing for awhile. Strange, considering he has the morning shift at the station tomorrow.

Robin strides over to that end of the bar. "Hey, mate," he greets, leaning against the bartop.

Killian tilts his glass in response.

"What are you doing here?" Robin asks, looking from the tumbler to the dwindling bottle of rum set just behind the bar.

Killian takes a sip, swallows. "In the doghouse," he answers miserably.

"Again?" That would make it the third time in two weeks that Emma has kicked Killian to the couch or, evidently, out of the house for the night. Robin sympathizes; the honeymoon phase always leaves a burn when it wears off.

"Yep," Killian confirms. "It was bad."

"What happened?" Robin asks, pulling out a stool and taking a seat.

Killian sighs and runs a hand down his face. "Emma found out about the Henry thing."

Robin furrows his brow. "The Henry thing?"

Killian looks at him pointedly. " _The Henry thing,"_ he repeats with emphasis and Robin's stomach drops. The Henry thing. The Henry thing that he and Killian both vowed they would never speak of to anyone, especially not Emma and Regina. Fuck.

"Shit," Robin mutters, rubbing his forehead. "How'd she find out about that?"

Killian shrugs. "Dunno," he mumbles, taking another sip.

Well, if Emma found out about that, then it makes sense why Killian would be drowning his sorrows in alcohol. If Regina had found out about it, Robin would probably be in the same- fuck.

"You don't think…" Robin starts, making Killian laugh.

"Oh ho, I'm sure Regina knows all about it by now," he chuckles sadistically, bringing his glass to his lips once more.

Robin's stomach rolls and he pulls his phone out of his pocket. His phone which had been on silent for the past two hours because he was on a call and had the walkie with him. His phone which is now peppered with countless notifications, most of which are from a very angry and a very persistent Regina.

 _ROBIN LOCKSLEY YOU CALL ME RIGHT THIS MINUTE_

 _I AM GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE_

 _DON'T IGNORE ME_

 _YOU ARE A DEAD MAN_

 _SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR HANDS_

 _YOUR TONGUE_

 _AND YOUR EYEBROWS_

 _DON'T THINK JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE WORKING YOU CAN GET OUT OF THIS_

 _YOU CALL ME RIGHT NOW_

And 5 missed calls to boot.

"Fuck," Robin groans, putting his phone back into his pocket. He pinches the bridge of his nose and then motions for the bartender (it's after midnight, he's officially off-duty). A minute later, he has a glass of whiskey in his hand, half of it already gone. "We're so fucked," he gripes.

"Tell me about it," Killian grumbles as the bartender refills his glass. "I walked into the house and nearly lost my good hand. Emma was furious."

"At least she didn't burn your eyebrows off."

Killian laughs. "Ha, better enjoy 'em while you still have 'em, mate," he jokes, clapping him on the back.

Robin groans again and takes a lengthy sip of whiskey. "Regina and I were doing so well," he laments. "We haven't fought in over two weeks."

"Well, that's good," Killian acknowledges. "She finally come round about Zelena, then?"

"No," Robin sighs with a shake of his head. "Zelena picked Morgan up after dinner. But I haven't pushed the matter and neither has Regina. We've been ignoring it, I guess."

"Probably not the best thing to do."

"No, it's not," Robin admits. "But Regina won't listen to reason. And I'm not hurting our relationship over Zelena anymore. We've done enough of that already."

"Then tell her that," Killian advises.

"What, just tell her that I don't want to share Tuesdays anymore, end of discussion? For some reason I don't think that would go over too well."

"No, I meant tell her you're tired of sacrificing your relationship for Zelena. After everything she's done to you, I don't think it's unreasonable for you to make that request."

"Regina doesn't see it that way," Robin sighs, wondering just how this night became about his relationship problems. "And I don't want to ask her to give up what she has with Zelena because I know how much it means to her, to finally have a relationship with her sister. I don't want to ruin that for her."

"Mate, saying what you are and are not comfortable with isn't asking her to give up anything," Killian counters. "And it certainly won't ruin her relationship with Zelena. You're a part of this arrangement too. You have a say in what happens."

"Yeah, well, I've a feeling bringing that up tonight wouldn't really go over too well, would it?"

"No, I reckon not," Killian agrees, taking a drink.

Robin downs the rest of his, and then motions for another.

* * *

Their shot glasses hit the bar top with a thunk and Robin's head swims pleasantly at the sound. It's probably close to one in the morning by now, but he stopped paying attention after glass #3 of whiskey. What else is he supposed to do with his night? Regina certainly doesn't want to see him. She'd probably throttle him if he dare step foot in the house and he's very much interested in not being strangled to death at the present moment. And besides, Killian's a friend and good company and if they're both in the doghouse, why not be there together?

"I wonder who snitched," Robin hiccups, head still straight enough to remember someone told Emma and Regina about the Henry thing.

"Doesn't matter. They were bound to find out eventually," Killian slurs, reaching for his tumbler of rum, fingers clumsy as he grasps it.

"Yeah, they have a weird way of knowing stuff," Robin concurs, holding out his empty glass for the bartender to refill.

"They're the most powerful sorceresses in all the realms. We were fools to think we could ever keep something from them."

"Yeah, sorceresses," Robin repeats absently. He takes a slow sip of his refreshed whiskey, throat burning pleasantly. Thank the gods he doesn't have to work tomorrow. "Ya know, I used to hate magic," he states. "But now… now it's kinda sexy when Regina uses it, just casually like it's no big deal."

"I know what you mean," Killian agrees. "It's the hands, I think."

"Mm, yeah, the hands," Robin echoes. Regina's hands are definitely not what he should think about when he's drunk and miserable and in public. Her mesmerizing hands that can do absolutely sinful, mindblowing things, that look marvelous wrapped around his-

He knocks back another swig of whiskey. Considering Regina's hands are probably not going to be doing anything remotely enticing to him for a long while after the Henry debacle, he probably shouldn't indulge himself. Instead, he clunks his glass down and indulges himself in a conversation he would never dream of having if he was sober. "Has Emma ever used magic in the bedroom?"

Killian's eyes go wide as he laughs, hiccups, and then laughs again. "You and the queen like to experiment there, mate?"

"Well, it's just the one time-"

An annoying chirp interrupts him and Killian sets his glass down, fumbling to pull his phone from his pocket. He blinks dumbly at the screen for a moment and then grins. "Speaking of your lovely queen…" he announces, turning the phone around so Robin can see the name on the screen.

Fuck. Regina.

Robin scrambles to fish his phone out of his own pocket, the device forgotten in his drunkenness and misery. Sure enough, there are several more notifications from Regina, quite different from the first set.

 _I mean it, Robin. Call me_

 _It is after 12:30 why are you not home yet_

 _Did you forget to charge your phone again?_

 _I swear to god if you don't answer your phone this time…_

 _ROBIN_

 _If you're currently dying, I'm going to kill you_

 _I promise not to kill you if you come home_

 _Robin please. Call me._

And 4 more missed calls.

Well, he's just cocked this entire night up, hasn't he?

"Regina, hello," Killian is saying as Robin goes through his notifications. "Yes, he's with me… hey, in our defense… The boy wanted to be taught! It's not our fault he wanted to learn!… fine." He holds the phone out toward Robin. "She wants to talk to you."

If he was in his right mind, Robin would probably think better of talking to a worried and angry Regina while he is quite drunk, but the whiskey is talking and it's getting pretty loud. "Hello, love," he says into the phone.

"Robin Locksley, where the hell are you?" Regina snaps and oh, she really is pissed. But whether it's still over the Henry thing or if it's because he's yet to return from work, he's not sure.

"At the Rabbit Hole with Killian," he answers, because what else is he supposed to do? He won't lie to her, even if it means he has to say goodbye to his eyebrows.

"I have _called_ and _texted_ and you didn't think it necessary to let me know where you are?" Regina seethes, voice terrifyingly low.

Robin gulps and squeezes his eyes shut. He shouldn't have had so much to drink. "I was going to, but I thought you'd be angry with me for the Henry thing."

"Oh, I am _plenty_ angry about that, thank you so much for reminding me," Regina answers with venomous sarcasm. "But damnit, Robin, it is nearly one thirty in the morning and you didn't so much as text me to let me know you're alright."

Robin pinches the bridge of his nose. God, he's a screw up. He can't go one night without fucking something up. "I'm sorry, my love," he apologizes. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

She exhales, long and slow. "Yeah, well, you did."

Robin pushes his glass away from him, holding his hand out to stop the bartender from refilling it. "Would you like me to come home?"

"No, I don't want you driving. You sound drunk."

Timely, Robin hiccups. "I won't argue with you there," he admits. "I'll walk."

"No, I don't want you doing that either. Say goodbye to Killian."

"Why?" Robin asks, cocking his head, just as he's enveloped in a cloud of purple smoke.

When it clears, he's standing in their bedroom, hand still near his ear, but without Killian's phone. His head spins, stomach rolling dangerously as he blinks and focuses. Regina is standing on the other side of the bed and though his vision is slightly blurred, he knows her queen face well enough to recognize that she's wearing it now.

She locks her phone and then tosses it onto the bed, arms crossing, eyebrows arched.

Robin swallows. "Love-"

"Don't," Regina interrupts, holding up a hand. "I don't want to hear it." She points toward the bedroom door. "Couch."

Should've seen that one coming. "Regina-"

"Couch," she repeats. "We will talk about this tomorrow."

Robin scrubs his face with his hands, reaching up to muss his hair, and sighs. "Right. I'm an idiot. Good night, then." Regina lets him go without another word and Robin's stomach turns with both dread and alcohol. He's doomed, that much is clear. Whether or not _they_ are doomed, well, he supposes the morning will determine that.

He closes the bedroom door behind him and trudges to the hall bathroom, stopping to splash water on his face. He pokes his head into Henry's room and then Roland's, grateful that they are at least having a peaceful night. He stops by Morgan's room for no real reason since she isn't there, Zelena has her, but he's besotten with his daughter and just being around things that remind him of her is enough to make him feel a tiny bit better. He opens her door and freezes.

He freezes because Morgan, his precious little girl, is sleeping soundly in her crib, tongue peeking out between her lips.

But it's Tuesday. Zelena gets Tuesday nights. Robin _wants_ Tuesday nights, and that's part of the whole problem between him and Regina to begin with. Regina would see it as infringing on Zelena's struggle to redeem herself, and Zelena would see it as trying to keep her from her child. So why, then, is his daughter sleeping soundly here instead of at Zelena's farmhouse?

He doesn't know. He doesn't have the mental faculties to process answers at the moment anyway, so he doesn't worry himself with the details. His daughter is here and she's just what he needs, so Robin soundlessly walks over to the crib and gently lifts Morgan into his arms, careful not to jostle her too much lest he wake her. He kisses her head softly, breathing deeply as she stirs slightly and nuzzles her cheek against his shoulder.

She's so perfect- everything about her, and here he is, drunk and miserable on a Tuesday night because he's an idiot and he doesn't deserve a perfect child like her. At least she's still too young to be angry with him. Robin yawns and sits down in the rocking chair by the window, moving back and forth languidly as Morgan's breathing deepens and then evens out.

He should sleep- he'll be dead tomorrow- but as whiskey-lulled as his brain is, it won't shut up and he can't sleep knowing Regina is angry with him. And even worse, that he deserves all her anger and then some. At least, hopefully, she'll get some sleep tonight. Gods know she needs it.

Robin kisses Morgan's head again and then settles back against the rocking chair. He stares out the window at the moonless night and doesn't sleep.

Morgan starts to stir sometime later and Robin shifts his hold on her, tucking her against the crook of his arm. A quick glance at the clock tells him it's nearly 3 a.m. He rubs a hand down his face, blinking against the start of a headache. He should drink some water. He should have drunk some water the second he got home, but he didn't and just add that to the list of mistakes he's made in the last twenty-four hours.

Morgan whimpers and stretches, brow furrowing as she struggles in the battle between wake and sleep. She's hungry, most likely. Her middle of the night feedings have slowly started to dwindle and some nights, she sleeps nearly the whole night through. Bless those nights. Apparently, though, tonight isn't one of them and it's not long before she's letting out a pitiful wail, craving warm formula and a soothing touch.

Robin sushes her as he stands, bouncing her in his arms. "It's alright, princess," he coos. "Give Papa a minute and I'll get you a bottle." He'll get her a bottle and then get himself some water and hopefully ward off any hangovers and headaches in the process. But seeing his luck lately, he'll probably end up miserable and in pain for most of tomorrow. Wonderful.

Robin kisses the top of Morgan's head and turns for the door, stopping when he looks up.

Regina's leaning against the doorframe, mid-yawn, arms crossed and eyes half-lidded. They look red, her eyes, but whether that's from crying or lack of sleep is a mystery (he hopes it's not from crying- he hates when she cries, especially when he's the cause of it). Her hair is messy and if the circumstances were different, Robin would find it most endearing. But considering the circumstances they're currently in, he decides it'd be best to keep his endearing comments to himself.

Robin regards Regina cautiously as he continues to bounce Morgan gently. She doesn't seem angry anymore, but if she had just woken up, she might still be too out of it to remember she was mad at him in the first place. "I got her," Robin says softly. "Go back to sleep."

Regina shakes her head. "I wasn't sleeping," she yawns, coming into the room. She holds out her arms wordlessly and Robin hands Morgan over, aware of the ache in his muscles for the first time. He shakes out his arms as Regina starts to rock Morgan back and forth, shushing her gently.

"I'll get her a bottle," she says, turning halfway to the door. She looks back at Robin for a moment. "Stay," she orders, and thank the gods, that's a good sign.

Robin nods and lets his girls go, sinking back down into the rocker with a sigh. He should try to sleep at some point tonight, but the boys will be up for school in a few hours and they make all the noise of a horse race in the morning. Robin rubs his eyes and breathes out slowly. He wonders if Regina is planning on going into work tomorrow. She clearly wasn't getting much sleep either, but knowing her, she'll stride into her office just like everyday and ignore the pull of exhaustion until it becomes unhealthy.

The sound of footsteps in the hall makes him sit up and a second later, Regina reappears in the room with Morgan sucking down formula like her bottle is the last one in existence. Regina looks at him and then down at Morgan, adjusting the bottle where it had started to slip from her mouth.

"Why does her onesie smell like a distillery?" Regina asks, looking back up. Amazingly, her voice is free of malice.

Robin rubs the back of his head. "I've been holding her for a while," he explains.

"Did she wake earlier?"

Robin shakes his head. "No. I just wanted to hold her."

Regina nods and looks back down at Morgan, swaying slowly from side to side. Silence settles over them for a long moment and it's not awkward exactly, but it's not comfortable either, unspoken words clanging around in the space between them.

Robin takes a moment and commits to memory the sight of Regina holding his daughter, his two girls, two of the people who hold so much of his heart. God, he loves them. He loves them so damn much. If only he could stop screwing up so he could show them just how much.

"Why is she here?" Robin asks quietly after awhile. "It's Tuesday."

Regina glances up briefly and nods. "I asked Zelena if we could take Tuesday nights."

Robin blinks. "You… you did?"

Regina nods again. "Yeah. I know how much you've been wanting them and I figured there was no harm in asking. Zelena said it was fine."

"She… she did?"

Regina half-smiles. "She's not always unreasonable, you know."

Robin shakes his head absently, slightly dumbstruck. "But I thought… I mean, you said you didn't want to impose-"

"Zelena's imposed on our lives from the moment we met," Regina interrupts. "I figured she could sacrifice a little for us every now and then."

Robin breathes out slowly and rests his head in his hands. "Gods, I'm a cad," he mumbles.

"Robin-"

"I am," he insists, pulling his head back up. "And I don't deserve you. I don't deserve you or Morgan or the boys. I don't deserve your forgiveness or… or Tuesday nights or… or even sleeping on the couch. Just kick me out to the backyard. It's where I belong."

Regina shakes her head. "Is that really what you want?" she asks.

"No," Robin answers miserably. "What I want is you. I want you all day, everyday, for the rest of my life. I want you and our children to be safe and happy and cared for. That's all I want."

Amazingly, Regina smiles. It's small and a bit sad, but it's a smile all the same. "That's all I want too," she murmurs.

Robin breathes out a humorless chuckle. "If we want the same thing, then why do we keep on bloody fighting all the time?"

Regina looks down at Morgan and slowly pulls the now-empty bottle from her mouth. She sets the bottle down on the changing table and then gently lowers Morgan back into her crib, running a soothing hand up and down her back as she fights to keep her eyes open. A few moments later, their daughter is drifting back off to Dreamland.

Regina presses a kiss to her fingers and then lightly touches Morgan's head. "Sweet dreams, sweetheart," she whispers. She turns to face Robin, studying him for a minute before silently closing the distance between them.

Robin leans back, surprised, as Regina moves to sit on his lap, straddling his thighs, face pensive. His hands hover, uncertain, unsure as to how much he's allowed to touch, but then she leans in to him, and he figures all boundaries of personal space have been breached, so he skirts his hands around her waist, wrapping tightly, and holding on.

She brings a hand up and brushes her thumb back and forth against his cheek, eyes flickering between his own. "I don't know why we keep fighting," Regina murmurs. "But I do know that I love you. I love you, and I hate this- fighting, all the time." She kisses his forehead. "All I want, is exactly what you said. I want you, everyday, for the rest of my life. And I want you and our children to be safe and loved and happy."

Robin exhales and closes his eyes, focusing on the feel of her thumb rubbing against his skin. "At least we're on the same page about something."

Regina kisses his forehead again. "I realized something tonight," she says.

"What's that?"

"When you were at work, I couldn't wait for you to get home so I could surprise you with Morgan," she whispers, fingers trailing up to thread through his hair. "And then Emma told me what you did with Henry and I was so mad that I completely forgot how I excited I was before."

She sighs. "And then I didn't hear from you and you didn't come home and I didn't know where you were or what happened to you. And then I was scared." She lowers her eyes. "I was so scared that you were hurt or missing that I completely forgot how mad I was before."

Robin swallows, throat thick with guilt. He hadn't meant to frighten her and knowing that he had makes his stomach roll.

Regina looks back up. "And then I found out you were okay and I was mad again because you had made me so worried for no reason." She shakes her head and leans forward, resting her cheek against his temple. "But then I came in here and saw you with Morgan, and I remembered how excited I had been to surprise you with her. And suddenly I wasn't mad anymore."

"You weren't? Or… I mean, you're not- anymore?" Robin amends, voice piquing with hope.

Regina shakes her head, her hair tickling his cheek. "I wasn't mad because seeing you with Morgan reminded me that I love you." She sighs exasperatedly and pulls back to look at him. "You're an idiot, but I love you. And loving you is a thousand times better than being mad at you."

"You _should_ be mad at me," Robin says, fingers flexing at her waist.

"I know," Regina acknowledges with a little laugh. "But I'm making the choice not to be. And you should be mad at me, too, you know. I've been unfair to you with Morgan and Zelena." She shakes her head. "I'm supposed to be supporting you, and… I haven't been doing that." She looks down. "I'm sorry."

Robin shakes his head slowly. "Don't be," he says. "Gods, don't ever be sorry." He leans up and kisses her, gentle and reassuring, his hand finding its home on her cheek, fingers tucking into her hair. "You are a marvel, Regina Mills," he murmurs, looking her in the eye. "This… shit of a situation that we're in? I couldn't make it without you. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you with me, and I thank the gods everyday that you are who you are. And who you are is incredible."

Regina breathes out a laugh, blinking away the start of tears. "You make it sound like I did something amazing," she says. "All I did was love you."

"That _is_ amazing," Robin whispers. "And that's all I'll ever need."

Regina's lip quivers for a moment, and then she's leaning in and kissing him and Robin melts. He keeps his arm firm around her waist, holding her to him as their lips part and come back together, breaths mingling and hitching. She threads her fingers through the hair on the back of his head, nails scraping his scalp. Her lips are softer than usual, less forceful, and Robin's head swims again, but this time from her intoxicating touch and not the half bottle of whiskey stewing in his stomach.

He'd spend all night- or, the rest of the night, technically- just like this, her kisses the perfect hangover cure, but she has work in the morning, and they have three children to wrangle out the door, so he lets the kiss find its end and presses his lips one final time to hers.

She's a little breathless when they stop and evidently a little sleepy, her eyelids drooping as she pulls back to look at him. "You should get some sleep," she whispers, pushing back his hair.

"Mm, so should you," he returns, showing no signs of moving.

Regina nods and then settles in against him, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. Her breath is slow against his neck and her eyelashes tickle his skin as her eyes close. "You're going to be hungover in the morning," she yawns, already half-asleep.

Robin chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. "I can handle it," he says, resting his cheek against her hair and closing his eyes. Nothing has felt more right than this moment and Robin sends a prayer up to the gods that their future is filled with more like it. Less anger, more love. Less fights, more kisses. More nights with Regina curled up safely against him and their children slumbering soundly, oblivious to the troubles of the world. It's all he's ever wanted, and it's all he'll ever need.

Robin exhales and settles back into the chair, arms filled with the woman who owns his whole heart.

Several minutes pass and he starts to drift off when he hears Regina say quietly, "Robin?"

"Mm?" he hums.

"You and Hook taught my son how to break out of jail."

Robin's eyes pop open. He gulps, and sends another prayer up to the gods, begging for them to have mercy on his soul. Lord knows he'll need it.


	9. Riled

He doesn't know what set her off.

He really doesn't, but gods above, he's not going to question it.

He's not going to question when she's pressing him hard against the desk, the mayor's desk, _Regina's_ desk, as she kisses him fiercely, hungrily, angrily. She's wound up about something, and he'd ask, he'd try to ease her mind, but she is pushing his jacket off his shoulders and pulling at the buttons on his shirt and he can't really do much when her tongue is doing _that_ inside his mouth.

"Swan," he gasps when she breaks for a split second for air. "We can't- this is Regina's-"

"I don't care," she interrupts, shutting him up with her mouth again. "We are doing this here. Now." She yanks the bottom of his shirt free from his pants and pulls until the fabric flies open, buttons scattering all over the floor. Her mouth is on his skin immediately, sucking and biting as her hands fall to his belt.

He'd protest. He _would._ But she is insistent and, well, he's helpless when it comes to her.

...

He doesn't know what set her off.

He honestly doesn't, but who is he to question her? Especially when she is doing sinful, wonderful things with her lips and tongue, pressing him hard against the desk, the sheriff's desk, _Emma's_ desk. Her mouth is hot against his own, her hands insistent as they trail down his chest, hooking and tugging at his belt. She is worked up about something, and he wants to know what, he really does, but she is raking her fingers through his hair and pressing her hips against his and he can't resist her. He _can't._

"Regina," he manages, hands finding purchase on her waist. "We can't- this is Emma's-"

"Ask me if I give a shit," she growls, grinding herself down on his hardening center.

He won't. He won't ask, not if she keeps working him like that, not if she keeps yanking on his belt just so, mouth sucking bruises down his neck, fingers tugging maddeningly in his hair. He wants to know why she's riled, he really does, but, well, it's her. And he simply can't say no.

...

Regina is going to kill him.

Burn him to a crisp if she ever finds out.

She won't kill Emma, for Henry's sake, but him? Oh, he's a dead man.

But if this is the way he is to go, then so be it. If he's to meet his end balls deep inside his love, Emma warm and wet and tight around him, bent over Regina's desk, then so be it. He'll die a happy man.

How they ended up here- and why- he's still not sure, but finding out can wait. Finding out can wait until after Emma's finished making those sounds and clenching around him and arching under his touch.

He catches something she mutters, amidst all those marvelous moans and gasps, something that sounds like, "Insufferable… she'll see- fuck- she'll see I'm right."

He doesn't know what she means, can't find the thought capacity to decipher it, but he'll file it away for later, for another time, when she's not gasping and moaning for him to keep going, right there, fuck, don't stop.

He picks up the pace and doubles his efforts until she is arching and crying out and coming beneath him.

Oh yes, he will die a very happy man.

...

Emma is going to kill him.

Well, fire him and then kill him.

She'll spare Regina, for Henry's sake, but him? He's a goner.

But of all the ways to die, he can't think of a better one than _this-_ buried to the hilt inside his soulmate, Regina's legs wrapped around his hips, her perfect ass perched just so on Emma's desk, groans and gasps falling freely from her lips.

Why, exactly, they've ended up fucking in the sheriff's station, on Emma's desk no less, he still isn't entirely sure, but he won't ask just yet. He knows better than to interrupt his love when she is clutching at his back, gripping him tight, clenching around him as he drives her higher and higher.

He hears something, somewhere in her gasps of pleasure, that sounds like, "Try to argue with me… I'm right, she knows I'm- _fuck_ \- I'm right…"

He'd tell her that of course she's right, except he doesn't know what she's right about and it doesn't seem too important at the moment, not when she is begging for him to fuck her harder, make her come, she needs to come.

He drops his hand between her legs and rubs until she is biting at the skin of his shoulder, trembling beneath him, shouting her pleasure to the empty sheriff's station.

Oh yes, he's a goner. But what a way to go.

...

They bring it up with each other later, beers in hand, inhibitions gone for the night. At first, they're sheepish, confessing to doing wildly inappropriate things in wildly inappropriate places, but then they start to wonder. What could have riled their women up so much that they were both driven to releasing their frustrations in roughness and pleasure? And on each other's desks no less?

Their loves are enigmas, that much is sure.

They clink their beers together, thanking gods above that they are the ones who get to solve the puzzles.

...

They find out later, what it was all about.

When Henry brings up Violet and his two mothers clash, one arguing the boy is old enough to court a lady and the other arguing he is still a child. It's a well-worn argument, one that has obviously been had before, one that gets quite heated, one that gets their respective lady loves quite… riled.

They share a look, an unspoken question asked between them, and suddenly, they realize what it was all about. Thank god neither woman realizes their sudden comprehension. They'd both be dead men.

Oh, but what a way to go.


	10. Halves

Madison hates her. Almost. Madison hates a lot of things, but Lauren is not one of them. A distinct loathing is probably a better word for it. Love- now that's a whole different question. Madison doesn't love many things and Lauren knows she does not fall into that exclusive club. Not many people do.

Daddy never wants to hear it. Sisters not loving each other? What a ridiculous notion. Madison always bites her tongue to stop herself from pointing out that she and Lauren are not sisters.

Half-sisters.

Nothing more.

Madison doesn't hate Lauren, but she doesn't love her either. There's a hollow part of her that wishes she did, but every time they see each other, red hair clashes with black and no love is lost between them. Madison loves her family, but Lauren is only half-family, a puzzle piece that doesn't quite fit with the rest of them.

Mom understands, for the most part. And how could she not, with her own sisterly struggles? Mom says they'll appreciate each other when they're older. Madison always bites her tongue to stop herself from pointing out that they _are_ older and they're feelings haven't changed.

Half-sisters.

Nothing more.

Roland and Henry get caught in the middle, whether they realize it or not. They don't like to pick sides, they don't like to involve themselves, but they have to share Lauren. Madison is all theirs.

And maybe that's it, maybe that's why Lauren is the oddly shaped puzzle piece. She's not completely theirs. One day she's there, and the next she's not. In and out, in and out, being passed back and forth like a game of catch that never ends. Always going, never staying, family bonds getting caught in the closing of the door.

Half-sisters.

Nothing more.

Never more than one parent in common, one half of each other's lives they must share. Not all broken things can be patched up with threaded hope and second chances. And this thing has been broken from the start.

* * *

Madison doesn't expect to see Lauren when she gets home from school, but she's there, sitting at the kitchen table, talking to Mom. She frowns when she hears her half-sister's voice. It's Wednesday. Wednesday is a Lauren-free days. It's Madison's favorite day of the week.

Mom laughs as Madison enters, tongue pinched tightly between her teeth. She greets her mother with a kiss on the cheek and merely looks at her half-sister in greeting. Lauren hardly glances back.

"What are you doing here?" Madison asks bluntly, shrugging off her backpack. "It's Wednesday."

"I got off work early. Thought I'd come by to see if Dad was here."

"You could've just called."

Lauren rolls her eyes and stands, walking over to the refrigerator. "Didn't think I had to call ahead to come by my own home."

Madison bites her tongue again. _It's not your home._

"Did you have a good day at school, sweetheart?" Mom asks, ignoring the loveless exchange between half-sisters.

"Yeah, it was fine," Madison answers, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter. "Where's Dad?"

"He had an appointment after work. He should be home before dinner," Mom replies. "Are you eating with us tonight, Lauren?"

The older girl shakes her head. "No, I told Mom I'd make dinner. I'll be here tomorrow, though."

 _Two days in a row. Great._ Madison picks up her backpack and heads for the door. "I'll be in my room," she says to no one in particular.

Mom tells her to holler if she needs anything. Lauren says nothing.

Half-sisters.

Nothing more.

Neal once asked her what it was like to have a sister close in age. She told him she'd let him know once she got one.

* * *

She hates Zelena. As much as her mother's sister tries to get along with her, Madison's never been able to get past the whole raping her father business. Mom might, but not Madison. Zelena hurt her family. There's nothing to discuss beyond that.

Lauren looks like Zelena. All red hair and pale skin and long legs. How on earth can Daddy look at his older daughter without thinking of the woman who birthed her and what she did to him? Daddy and Zelena don't like each other. They tolerate one another for Mom's sake and for Lauren's, but there is nothing other than a great dislike between them. Madison understands. Lauren does not.

And how dare she? How dare she want Daddy to care about the woman who violated him, who used him for the sole purpose of hurting Mom and bringing Lauren into the world?

Half-sisters.

Nothing more.

She's been told to call her 'Aunt Zelena.' That's not happening. It's Zelena and nothing else. She is not family. She is Mom's sister, Lauren's mother, and nothing else. Aunt Emma is family. Aunt Snow and Uncle David are family. Uncle Killian, Uncle John, Aunt Mal, they are family. Zelena is not. No matter what Mom says.

Lauren calls her Regina. And if Madison is being pressured to use 'Aunt Zelena,' why then is Lauren not told to use 'Aunt Regina?' It's the stepmom thing, probably. Who else in the entire universe has a stepmom who is also their biological aunt? Fucked up. This whole thing is fucked up.

Madison's life would be perfect- loving parents, two protective older brothers, a whole host of family members to love and support her. She's never wanted for anything. Her life would be perfect if it weren't for two red puzzle pieces that don't exactly fit. Two red pieces that everyone keeps trying to jam into the right spots in the puzzle of Madison's life, but no matter how hard they push or which way they turn, those pieces won't fit. They weren't made to fit. Maybe everyone should stop trying to make them.

* * *

It's an accident. A stupid, avoidable accident. Madison has never been a wonder in the kitchen, always forgetting ingredients and mishandling appliances. She takes after her father that way.

Her temper is short and often blinding, anger seeping its way into places that should be left alone, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. She takes after her mother that way.

Nothing sparks her temper quicker than Zelena, Lauren being the one exception. Madison isn't even supposed to be at Zelena's. She is supposed to be with her father, but other things came up and her mother is working and would she really mind if she went to Zelena's house after school just until her father can pick her up?

Yes. She does mind. Very much.

She minds enough that her temper is blazing from the moment she arrives, fury blocking out her reason and rationale, blind to anything that doesn't feed her anger. How dare she be forced to spend the afternoon with the woman who is responsible for ruining her life years before she was even born? How dare her parents ask such a thing of her?

In hindsight, her anger is to blame. If she hadn't been so angry, maybe she would have remembered to turn off the burner when the kettle whistled. Maybe she would have noticed the kitchen towel left so close to the stove. Maybe she would have smelled the smoke sooner and felt the heat of the flames quicker. Maybe she would have yelled louder and shouted for Zelena faster. Maybe she would have been able to stop the flames from catching onto the wooden walls of the cabin. Maybe she would have been able to get out of the house before the smoke became suffocating and the heat became unbearable. Maybe she could have stopped it. And maybe Zelena wouldn't be dead.

* * *

Lauren bursts into the house, eyes wild and red, cheeks stained with tears. She's unhinged and devastated and furious. She wants blood. Payment for her mother's life so carelessly ripped away.

Madison shrinks, her own eyes red and puffy.

"You," Lauren seethes, storming past Mom standing in the doorway.

"Lauren," Mom tries.

"You killed her!" Lauren shouts, towering over her half-sister. "She's dead and you killed her!"

"It was an accident," Madison defends feebly. "I didn't mean to."

"You little bitch! I'm going to kill you!" Lauren shrieks wildly, lunging for the younger girl, murder in her eyes.

Their father is the only reason Madison is still alive. He appears in the room at the perfect time, grabbing hold of Lauren before she can begin her assault, locking her tightly in his grip.

"Sweetheart, please," he pleads, unrelenting in his hold even as Lauren fights against him.

"She killed her! She killed her!" Lauren shouts, wild eyes never leaving Madison. "I hate you! I hate you! You little bitch! You killed her!"

Madison jumps up. "It was an accident!" she shouts.

"I don't give a shit! If it weren't for you, she'd be alive! Why couldn't you just stop being a bitch for once in your life?!" Lauren demands.

"Stop shouting at me! You're making me feel bad!"

"I don't give a fuck how you feel! How the fuck do you think I feel? You killed my mom! My mom is dead because of you and all you care about is yourself!"

Madison snarls. "You want me to say I'm sorry? Because I'm not! I hated Zelena! I'm glad she's dead! I hated her and I hate you!"

Lauren's face contorts in unabashed, unleashed hatred. "I hope you die!" she screams as Daddy starts pulling her from the room. "I hope you die! I hope you burn in hell! I'm going to kill you! I hope you die!"

Somewhere in the room, Mom starts to cry, breaking down from the weight of her sister's death and their daughters' struggles that mirror their own so perfectly.

Madison hates seeing her mother cry, but her anger has gone blinding again and all she sees are the stairs as she runs up to her room, the door slamming shut behind her.

Mom is left to cry alone.

* * *

Mom always knocks. She never barges in, never opens the door herself. She knocks, and doesn't enter until Madison sniffles a miserable, "Come in."

Mom opens, closes the door, and leans back against it, arms crossed. Her eyes are red, but her face is calm, motherly instincts taking control of her own grief for the time being. Madison waits expectantly from her bed. They're so alike, Mom and her. In looks and temperament and magic. In what they need in times of pain and struggle. And so Mom knows. Mom knows coddling and pity will get her nowhere. And so she waits.

"I'm not apologizing," Madison states, looking away.

"To Lauren? No, I wouldn't expect you'd want to," Mom answers, pushing herself off the door. "But to your father? Well, I believe you owe him an apology."

"Daddy? What did I do to him?"

"You broke his heart," Mom answers, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Do you have any idea how much it hurts him to see the two of you fight like that?"

Madison shrugs. "He shouldn't pretend everything is okay when it's not. It hasn't been. Not for a really long time."

"He just wants the two of you to appreciate each other as sisters." She reaches out and squeezes her daughter's hand. "I didn't appreciate Zelena for a long, long time. She blamed me for ruining her life and I blamed her for ruining mine. We didn't realize that our relationship- what we were to each other- was special. There is no one else on the planet who can understand you like your sister."

Madison purses her lips. "Lauren is not my sister."

"Half-sister, stepsister, whole sister, it doesn't matter. What matters is that you realize you're sabotaging yourselves."

"Pretty sure Zelena did all the sabotaging when she raped Daddy," Madison snaps.

Mom sighs. "You say Zelena and yet you hate Lauren for it. Why, sweetheart? Why take out your anger at your aunt on your sister?"

"Because Lauren ruins everything!" Madison cries. "Our lives would be perfect if she didn't exist! She's a constant reminder of what Zelena did to Daddy and to you! She doesn't… she doesn't _fit_ with the rest of us! She's awful and mean and she wants Daddy and Zelena to like each other! How could she ever ask him something like that?"

"I think she just wants her parents to get along, sweetheart. Any child would want that."

"She doesn't get to want that," Madison snaps. "Just because she doesn't have a real family, doesn't mean she gets to force one together at the expense of mine."

Mom purses her lips. "Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore, do you?"

Madison looks away. "I didn't want Zelena to die."

"But you can't say that you're sorry about it, either."

Her bottom lip trembles slightly, a reflection of her brother and father. "No," she admits quietly. "But I'm sorry for you. I'm sorry you lost your sister."

"Not that Lauren lost her mother?"

Madison doesn't answer.

"How would you feel if it were the other way around? If I died because of an accident Lauren caused? Would you want her to feel sorry about it?"

"She would feel sorry about it," Madison challenges, engaging her mother in a stare down for a long moment before relenting, shoulders sagging. "I guess that makes her a better person than me."

"Empathy isn't an indication of goodness, sweetheart. And you know, I can't really fault you for not feeling sorry. Years ago, if Zelena died, I wouldn't have felt bad about it because I hated her and she hated me. We couldn't look past the hate. But then, somehow, something changed. We started to understand each other." She reaches out and squeezes Madison's arm. "And once we understood each other, we realized all the hate we had built up against each other, all the ill will, was doing nothing but getting in the way of ourselves and what we could be together."

Madison bites her lip, angry tears brimming. "Lauren and I will never be anything together," she says quietly. "We're too damaged."

Mom leans forward and kisses Madison's brow. "Good can come from broken, sweetheart," she whispers. "And we all get a second chance, even if we don't think we deserve one." She stands. "You just have be brave enough to find it." Mom turns for the door, but stops at the threshold. "It's not too late for you and Lauren, honey. Even if it doesn't seem like it right now. Don't give up on your sister- she understands you better than you think." She gives one long lingering look, and then turns, leaving Madison alone in the rubble of her grief.

* * *

She's always loved how in love her parents are. Even now, almost two decades into their relationship, they still love each other like it's their wedding day. Daddy makes Mom smile, brighter and wider than anyone else. Mom makes Daddy laugh, louder and longer than anyone else. Their relationship is good. Their relationship is healthy. Their relationship is not like the one Daddy had with Zelena.

Blistering sores and scarring gashes don't heal over time, not when they're on the heart, not when they're so deep the fibers of a person's soul start to fray from the damage.

Madison wasn't there when Zelena hurt Daddy, but she's heard the story. She's seen the pain burned and faded in his eyes, the haunting of a lie and a deception that follows him like a ghost.

Zelena lied.

Lauren was born.

And Mom and Daddy loved her.

They love each other, they love Lauren, they love Madison.

Mom loves Zelena. Daddy does not.

It's to her father Madison goes, searching for her own remorse and coming up short.

When she finds her parents, Mom is asleep, curled up on Daddy's lap, her head resting on his shoulder and her legs tucked against his side. Mom's body is small, but she is big, her voice and her presence conquering a room the moment she enters. But she's always smaller with Daddy, and she looks small now, pain and grief shrinking her down to human size.

Daddy is watching her. He's always watching her, gaze flooded with a love that had been bone dry for the most of Mom's life. His arms encircle her protectively, his love for her outweighing his hate for Zelena.

Madison knocks on the door frame. Daddy looks up.

"Princess," he says, an echo of dimples making an appearance. "I thought you'd fallen asleep."

Madison shakes her head, looks from her father to the floor to her mother. "How is she?"

"Heartbroken," Daddy answers honestly. Honesty. Daddy never lies. Honorable people do not lie. "But she's resting for now and I'll take that."

Madison nods, looks away. Mom is heartbroken. Heartbroken for a sister who she knew and lost and knew again. A sister who believed her life goal to be the destruction of Mom's happiness. A sister who betrayed and lied and harmed. A sister who Mom loved and hated and loved again. Despite everything. They were sisters.

Half-sisters, but something more.

Broken halves of a destructive legacy born of a woman without a heart. Separated by greed, antagonized by power, reunited and restored by love. By forgiveness. Good came from broken. Good came from Lauren, from their mutual love for a daughter unplanned.

Madison looks at her heartbroken mother again. If they traded places, if Lauren was the one lying dead and cold, would Madison be heartbroken? She hadn't thought so. She and Lauren have been broken from the start. But good… if good can come from broken, how small can the pieces shatter before the hope of mending is lost?

Madison breathes, long and slow, and for the first time, her heart beats in a pattern that pulses with feeling. With sympathy, with sorrow. With love- _love,_ can you believe it?- for her sister. For Lauren. For the person who understands her, willingly or not, better than anyone.

Daddy extends his hand and Madison goes to him, curls against his side, head on his shoulder, heart in her hands. "Someone is dead because of me," she breathes.

Daddy nods, cheek pressing to the top of her dark, dark hair. "I know."

"Zelena is dead because of me."

Daddy nods again. "I know, princess."

"I ruined Lauren's life," Madison says. "And I didn't even feel sorry about it."

Daddy holds her tighter. "And now?"

Madison closes her eyes, heart pulsing stronger with sorrow and sympathy and finally- finally- remorse. "I wish I could fix it," she whispers.

Daddy kisses the top of her head. "Me too, princess. Me too."

Madison breathes and lets herself cry.

* * *

They bury Zelena a few days later and it rains, and rains, and rains. The air smells like earth and all things green, ironic in the most bittersweet way. Mom cries and Lauren cries and Daddy holds them both through it all. Madison stands back, away from the rest of them. It's not her loss to mourn, but it's her responsibility to shoulder.

There are a small cluster of mourners, most there for Mom or Lauren more so than the woman freshly laid in the ground, but people are there and Madison is grateful. Lauren won't have to bury her mother alone.

It's after everyone has left, departed for the wake, that Madison gets to speak to her sister for the first time since their exchange of death threats. Lauren stands, alone, in front of her mother's coffin, tear stains and rain drops and mud streaks shading her in a hollow mask of grief. Madison approaches, stands beside her, and breathes. Waits. Hopes.

Lauren is empty, that much is clear. Her fight is gone, her fire extinguished. She buried the vitality of her lifeblood today. And Madison is to blame. So Madison waits, and finally, Lauren speaks.

"I know you hated her," she says, blue eyes stuck on the wooden case before them. "I know you did, but she didn't hate you. She loved you. Despite everything."

Madison nods once. "My mom loves you too, you know. Despite everything."

Lauren exhales, slowly, deeply, blinking in the face of rain and tears. "I know," she whispers.

The rain falls and time passes, a moment, a minute, two.

"I'm sorry," Madison murmurs. "For your mom. For… us. For everything."

Lauren brushes a tear away. "We're pretty fucked up, huh?" she laughs and cries.

"Yeah. We are." Madison turns and looks at her shattered other half. "We're broken. I think we've always been broken."

Lauren sniffs. "Seems that way." She looks down at her feet, up at her mother, over at her sister. "I don't hate you, you know," she says quietly. "I know you think I do, but I don't."

Madison swallows. "I don't hate you either. I… I did. For a long time. But I realized I shouldn't, and now… I don't. Not anymore."

Lauren shakes her head. "We're really damaged."

"Broken," Madison repeats. "Just like our moms were."

Lauren glances over. "They turned out alright. In the end, didn't they?"

Madison meets her eyes. "Yeah. They turned out alright."

Lauren nods and looks away, back to the coffin that holds her mother. They don't speak after that, but somewhere, somehow, the rain stops and Madison breathes and Lauren's hand ends up in her own. The puzzle piece rotates, and starts to fit.

* * *

It's not easy after that. Years of bitterness and spite often rear their ugly ends, threatening to slash the small threads of hope and sewn-together pieces they've worked so hard to mend. Words are sharpened into deadly points, anger tossed around like water on a hot summer day.

Daddy helps. His patience knows no limits and his love even fewer. He's their buffer, their uniter, their starting point. On the days they feel like killing each other, they resist because of him. Their love for each other may still be conditional, but their love for their father is anything but.

Mom guides. She knows, she sees, she understands. She's been there, felt that, struggled with this. She roots for them. Replaces the void left empty by Zelena with the braided hope that is their daughters. And how funny, that two generations of Mills women should seek to break the cycle of pain and loneliness and brokenness inherited by their last name. The first succeeded. The second is getting there. Little by little. Piece by piece.

It's on a late summer morning, months after the pieces first started fitting, that they finally feel as if the last has slid into place. A threat has come to town, one that requires defenses of magic, and Mom lets them help, for once, she lets them help. It's strange, using magic so intensely, so forcefully, in a capacity neither one has experienced before. And that's what they are- inexperienced and young and nowhere near as powerful as their mothers yet.

Madison throws a spell. It misses.

Evil and darkness and gnashing teeth come barrelling down.

Lauren throws a spell. It hits, but not effectively.

They throw a spell together. Swirling streams of red and green intertwine and combine and unite and the evil backs away, backs off, cowers for a moment. It's only a moment, but enough time for Mom and Aunt Emma to strike, to punish, to conquer.

The evil is gone.

Madison looks at Lauren. Lauren looks back.

A final piece slides into place.

And that which was once broken, is finally whole again.

Half-sisters.

Something more.

Halves.

Sisters.

More.


	11. Borrowed and Stolen

It's been awhile since he's ridden a horse that wasn't stolen. And while this horse isn't stolen, it's certainly not his. King Arthur had been kind enough to offer him a choice of any of the prized steeds in the royal stables. Told him to pick whatever horse would most suit his needs for his journey and while Robin appreciates the offer and will most certainly be taking the king up on it, he finds himself loathing to use a horse that is not his own.

He hasn't owned a horse since his youth, when his father gifted him a beautiful brown mare for his fifteenth birthday. He lost that horse in a game of poker one drunken night following the death of his father and the plunder of his village by a certain Sheriff of Nottingham. After that, owning a horse just seemed like a hassle when stealing one was so much easier. But now, now it feels like something he should have, a horse of his own, even if Storybrooke isn't really favorable to such creatures beyond the stables and pastures Regina favors so much.

Regina doesn't have her own horse anymore either. Maybe he should look into getting one for her back home, an animal fierce and strong and beautiful, just like her. They could ride together, if he managed to get a horse for himself as well, and it would be good for her, having something to relieve stress, work off all the pressure piled onto her shoulders daily. He should take her riding today, before he leaves. Help her relax, untie those knots that always form in her neck, let her breath some air that isn't thick with the dust of ancient books and long-forgotten libraries.

"There you are," Regina, coincidentally, says as she pushes open the gate to the stables, her red cloak brushing over the ground with each step.

God, she's a vision here. She's always a vision, but it's something about these Camelot garments, the cut and fit of her dress, that striking red, something that makes her more stunning than usual, despite the dark circles under her eyes and the knots in her neck.

Robin abandons the saddle he had been adjusting on his borrowed horse's back and turns to greet her with a smile. "The Savior emerges from her book prison," he teases lightly, extending his hand toward her.

Regina rolls her eyes at the title, but smiles, lacing her fingers with his and letting him pull her closer. "You're lucky you're leaving soon. Otherwise, I'd roast you for that one," she warns as she leans up on her tiptoes and presses a short kiss to his lips.

"Noted," Robin chuckles. He wraps an arm around her waist, keeping her close. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you before you left," Regina replies, skating her fingers up his chest to straighten out the buttons on his tunic. "And… to try one more time to convince you not to go."

Robin gives her a patient look, reminiscent of the one he gave her this morning and last night. "Regina-"

"I just wish you wouldn't," she interrupts, glancing up at him. "Let Arthur find his own Holy Grail if he needs it so damn much."

"He _did_ find it," Robin reminds her. "And Morgan Le Fey stole it from him. He needs someone to steal it back."

"I know, but why does it have to be you?" Regina demands, fingers fisting loosely in the fabric of his shirt. "He has hundreds of trained knights under his command. What can't he just send some of them?"

"Because he requires the best thief in all the realms," Robin boasts jokingly, hoping to earn a smile and falling a frown short. He sighs and brings his other arm to wrap around her, pulling her snugly against him. "I'll be fine, my love. I have plenty of experience stealing from powerful sorceresses. Maleficent, Zelena, you-"

"Me?" Regina interrupts sharply. "What do you mean me?"

Robin ducks his head sheepishly. "Uh… I might have broken into your castle once."

"You _what?"_ Regina exclaims, eyebrows skyrocketing. "When? How?" Her eyes narrow as she stares at him hard, overly dramatic suspicion coloring her face. "What did you steal?"

"Just some jewels sitting in a room gathering dust," Robin defends. "You didn't even realize they were missing, obviously. And you weren't there when I broke in anyway. You were away at your summer castle."

"Oh, so you were too afraid to break in when I was actually there? Scared of the Evil Queen's wrath, thief?" Regina teases, curling her fingers tighter in the fabric of his shirt, bringing her face closer to his.

"If I was, I wouldn't have stolen from you again," Robin replies, voice lowering.

"Again? What _else_ have you stolen from me?" Regina asks, her mouth close enough to his that her breath washes over his lips.

"Mm, a lot of things," Robin murmurs. "Smiles, touches…" He squeezes her hips. "Gasps and moans…" She rolls her eyes at that, thwaps his shoulder lightly. "But you know what my favorite things I've stolen from you are?"

"What?" Regina breathes, brushing her nose against his.

Robin doesn't answer. Instead, he closes the small distance between their mouths, relishing in the moan that sounds from Regina's throat. Her lips move wonderfully against his, always so soft, so lovely, so deliciously full. She smells like lavender oil and the soaps from the washroom in their chambers, different from how she smells in Storybrooke, but intoxicating all the same.

It's been awhile since he's gotten to kiss her like this, since they've gotten to be alone in any capacity. Sure, they share chambers and a bed, but lately she's pushed herself to the point of exhaustion every night, either falling asleep the moment her head hit her pillow or succumbing to her tiredness at a table littered with large books written in dead languages. On those nights, the most time Robin gets to spend with her is when he carries her to bed, leaving the mysteries of Merlin to be solved another day. And now he won't even have that because he's leaving today, for an indeterminate amount of time, and normally he wouldn't mind it, leaving for an adventure, but now he's leaving _her_ , and he can barely stand the thought, not after he's left her so many times already.

She slides her palms from his chest up to his neck and hair, one hand splaying along his jaw, the other fisting loosely at the back of his head, her teeth nipping his bottom lip. Robin groans and walks her back two steps, pressing her against the gate post of the stall. He fiddles with the silver clasp on her cloak until it unhooks and the velvety fabric slides from her shoulders, dropping onto the hay covered ground.

"Robin," she breathes into the space between their mouths. "We can't… get carried away… not here…"

He'd answer her, but he's just been given a whole new expanse of her to explore- her bare shoulders, the contours of her waist and chest and ass, and he is a little too distracted to form a coherent reply at the moment. So he doesn't answer her, and instead kisses his way down the side of her neck to the hollow of her shoulder, licking and sucking in a way that makes her fingers tighten in his hair and a gasp to tumble out of her mouth.

He's supposed to leave soon, leave very soon, but he can spare some time, spare enough time to make up for all the time they haven't gotten to spend together since arriving in this blasted kingdom, so he nips his way down to the beaded edge of her dress, dipping his tongue underneath the fabric to taste the skin still hidden from his view. Regina shivers and presses her hips closer to his, grinds herself just so against his hardening length, earns herself a groan and a squeeze to her ass. Oh yes, he can spare more than enough time to have his wicked way with her, right here, right-

A sharp sting strikes across his cheek as his borrowed horse whinnies loudly.

"Ow!" Robin yelps, pulling his head up in surprise.

Regina snickers, her hand covering her smile. "The horses must have a rule about no fooling around in the stables," she laughs, rubbing her thumb over where the horse's mane had struck his cheek.

Robin gives his horse a glare, wondering if he's ever been cockblocked (and what a funny word- Hook had accidentally taught it to him when he was lamenting his own failings at having Emma to himself) by an animal before. "And I receive no sympathy for my pain," he gripes dramatically.

Regina laughs again, leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek. "There. All better?"

"Would have been better if I hadn't been interrupted in the first place," Robin grumbles.

"I told you we couldn't get carried away," Regina reminds him, placing both hands on his chest and giving him a gentle push backward.

He steps away from her, but barely, loathe to leave the warmth of her closeness and the feel of her pressed tight against him. "I just miss you, my love," he sighs, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "And knowing I won't get to see you for awhile…"

"I know," Regina admits sullenly. "I feel like I've seen you for all of five minutes since we've been here." She glances down, bites her lip. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?"

She looks back up. "For spending so much time in the library and not enough with you and Henry and Roland. It's my fault you're all feeling neglected."

Robin shakes his head. "That's not what I meant, love. I just meant I wish you didn't have to work so hard. You're wearing yourself out." He offers a grin. "And maybe I'm a little selfish and wish to have you all to myself every now and then. Just to assure myself you're still here with me."

Regina half smiles, dropping her gaze to his chest, where her palm rests over his heart. "I know that feeling," she murmurs.

She's thinking about the other night, when he nearly slipped from her grasp at the slice of a sword, and they can't have that, can't have her dwelling on something that's in the past, something that's caused her enough grief and pain already. So Robin hooks a finger under her chin and kisses her softly, lingering until he's sure any bit of guilt has dissipated from her mind.

"I have an hour or so before I have to leave," he says quietly, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger. "Go riding with me for a bit? Get some fresh air and work off some stress?"

Regina's smile widens and for the first time since they've arrived in Camelot, she looks genuinely happy. "I suppose I could spare an hour," she teases, bending down to grab her cloak off the stable ground. She brushes off loose pieces of hay and then wraps it around her shoulders, resecuring the clasp and unfortunately hiding all the glorious skin Robin had just revealed.

"Arthur has some beautiful mares," Robin comments, turning his back to her as he buckles the last few straps of his borrowed horse's saddle. "He said pick whichever ones we like."

"Oh, I think I quite like this one," Regina says from behind him and then it's a flurry of red as she suddenly mounts the very horse he just saddled.

Robin blinks up at her as she smiles sweetly from atop his mare, petting the side of the horse's neck. "Um, I do believe that is _my_ horse, milady," Robin says, crossing his arms.

"Well, come on then, if it's _your_ horse," Regina replies, patting the spot behind her on the saddle. "Or would you like to find a new one?"

Well then… would he rather get to wrap his arms around her for an hour as they trot through the forest, or spend an hour cold and alone on his own horse? There has never been a more obvious answer.

Robin smirks as he grabs hold of the saddle and swings himself up, pressing himself tight to her back, curling an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to the top of her shoulder. "Where to, my love?" he asks.

"Hmm, I'm not sure," Regina answers, picking up the reins. "Guess we'll know when we get there." And with that, she digs her heel into the horse's side and clicks her tongue, starting them off at an easy gate as they make their way down the grassy hillside. It's a bit chilly, but sunny, and the breeze blows just enough that Robin gets a whiff of the sweet smell of her hair every so often. He hugs her close as they head for the treeline, content to have an hour with only her and nothing to do until life and responsibilities catch up to them again.


	12. New York City Christmas

Cities are weird. They look weird, and they sound weird, and they _smell_ weird. It's like everything in the whole wide world is happening at the exact same time in the exact same place and you can't turn your head fast enough to see and hear and smell everything. Henry said cities are exciting, but what's so exciting about being in a place that's so loud you can't hear your new boots make _clip-clop_ noises as you walk? And what's worse, all the sounds mash together until it just sounds like loudness and hurt ears.

The city doesn't make sense. And it makes even _less_ sense to go to the city to celebrate Christmas- a day all about _trees-_ in a place that has, like, _zero trees_ (zero means none and zero is a number that comes before one. Miss Herman said you can remember that because 'none' and 'one' sound the same) _._

They should go to the forest for Christmas. The forest has so many trees that they wouldn't even have to cut one down and put it up in the house (Papa said it doesn't make sense to do that and Regina said he needs to stop being a treehugger, but Roland's never seen Papa hug a tree, so that doesn't really make sense either).

But they don't go to the forest. They go to the city (Henry said it's a new city, but it doesn't look new) and now everything is _loud_ and _cold_ and there are no trees _anywhere_. And he doesn't even know _why_ they're in the city because Regina said it's a surprise, and normally that'd be a good thing, but how many good surprises could be in the city? Maybe like… four at the most.

At least he can see. Papa is suuuuper tall and when Roland sits on his shoulders, he's even taller than that, so he's like the tallest person in the whole world, probably, and now at least he can see all the weird things that make weird noises and weird smells.

Although… that smell isn't weird. That smell is _good._ And it's been, like, seventy hours since they had breakfast and they've been walking for almost that long and Roland's tummy is starting to make silly noises. Henry normally knows when to ask for food, but Henry's far out in front of Papa with Miss Emma and Captain Killian and that's not much help, is it?

Hmm, Regina usually gives him food when he asks, if he's polite enough, and she's been in a really good mood for a really long time, so maybe she'll help him out. He turns and looks at her walking next to Papa. He could touch the top of her head if he wanted, but he doesn't want to mess up her pretty red hat, not after Papa said he "quite fancies that color," so he doesn't touch. He straightens up and smiles his biggest smile, the one that Regina says she loves so much, and calls out her name sweetly.

She turns her head and smiles up at him. "Yes, Roland?"

"I'm hungry," he says, bouncing a bit on Papa's shoulders. "Can we eat something?"

"Roland, please don't wiggle," Papa says, holding onto his knee to stop his moving.

Regina twists her mouth to the side and pulls her phone out of her pocket. Roland smiles proudly at the picture of him and Henry on her screen. He looks very handsome in that picture, or at least that's what Miss Snow said.

"Well, it's not exactly lunchtime, but we did eat breakfast early so I suppose you could have a snack," Regina says, putting her phone away. "What would you like to eat?"

"Whatever that smell is!" Roland answers, starting to bounce again but stopping when Papa squeezes his knee.

Regina looks around for a bit and then nods. "I think that can be arranged. Henry!" she calls.

Henry turns and starts walking backward (Regina always says he shouldn't do that because he could trip and get hurt or run into something, but Henry's not always the best listener). "Yeah?" he answers.

"Why don't you grab a couple of those pretzels for you and Roland as a snack?" Regina suggests, sticking a finger out and pointing (which is not polite, says Miss Herman).

Henry looks where she points and then nods, turning around and saying something to Miss Emma.

Two minutes later, Roland is in a much better mood as he munches on a warm soft pretzel with just the right amount of mustard.

"Roland, please be careful not to get salt or mustard in my hair," Papa says, twisting his head a bit until his nose bumps Roland's knee.

"I won't," Roland answers around a mouthful of pretzel. There's salt sticking to his mittens and he was going to brush it off on Papa's shoulders, but apparently that's not a good idea. He'll just brush it off on his jeans instead.

"Are you excited for your surprise, Roland?" Regina asks, pulling on the brim of her pretty red hat.

He shrugs. "I guess, but I dunno what it is."

Papa laughs. "Well, that's what a surprise is, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but the city is weird and that means all the surprises in the city are weird too," Roland explains, licking a glob of mustard off the side of his mouth.

"That's not necessarily true," Regina says just as Henry jogs back to walk beside Papa.

"Mom wants to know if we're going to go I-C-E S-K-A-T-I-N-G," Henry whispers loudly.

Roland scowls. He _hates_ when the big people spell things. He's not the bestest speller ever, but he's learning real hard in school and how's he supposed to know what people are talking about if they spell a bunch of stuff? It's really not fair.

"Maybe," Regina answers. "If it's not too crowded and if the snow holds off."

Henry nods and then scurries back up to Miss Emma and Captain Killian.

"Papa, what did Henry spell?" Roland asks as he chews the last bite of pretzel.

But Papa isn't listening because Regina is suddenly a lot closer than she was before and her hand is moving up and down Papa's arm and she's smiling that smile that she only gives Papa and she's saying something that Roland can't hear and then Papa's smiling too and _gross,_ he kisses Regina on the mouth and Roland wants to throw up all the pretzel he just ate.

Grown ups are yucky.

"Blech," he grouses loudly, causing Regina to turn her head and look up at him, eyebrow raised.

"Can I help you?" she asks in the way that means she isn't actually asking him if he needs help. Which doesn't make sense, but grown ups say stuff like that a lot.

"Just 'cause Henry isn't around doesn't mean you can be gross," Roland states, hands on his hips.

"Kissing isn't gross," Papa says. "Regina gives you kisses all the time and you never complain about those."

"Well _yeah,_ because the kisses she gives me aren't gross."

"Oh, and the ones she gives me are?"

Roland nods. "Yeah. It's like you're eating her face."

Regina snorts and covers her mouth, grinning at Papa from behind her glove. Roland can't see Papa's face but he can imagine he is making that face he makes when Henry drinks the last of the orange juice. Papa leans closer to Regina and whispers something into her ear that sounds like, "...not the only thing… like to eat…"

Regina punches Papa in the arm and it looks like she's mad but she's not actually because she starts laughing, and then Papa laughs too and Roland rolls his eyes.

Grown ups. They're so weird.

"Mom!" Henry calls over his shoulder. He points up ahead and Regina nods.

"Okay!" she calls back before looking up at Roland. "Are you ready for your surprise?"

He nods. "Uh huh. Is it a good surprise or a bad surprise?"

"How could a surprise be bad?" Papa asks.

"When Regina surprises me by saying I have to take a bath before bed. That's a bad surprise."

Regina chuckles. "Well, this is a good surprise, sweetheart. I promise."

They get to a crosswalk and stop walking because the sign on the other side of the street is red and you can't cross until it's green or else you could get hit by a car and get squished all flat like a pancake. A truck honks its horn and Roland jumps. Ugh, why is the city so loud?

The light changes to green and they cross the street. Roland tilts his head back until his neck hurts, looking up at the ginormous building that stretches all the way up to the clouds. Henry said the tall buildings are called skyscrapers, but they really should be called cloudpunchers because they punch right through the clouds so high that you can't see the top.

"Whoa," Roland marvels, scratching his head through his knit hat. "That's the hugest building I've ever seen."

Regina smiles. "Just wait. Close your eyes, okay? I'll tell you when to open."

Roland looks at her skeptically, but obeys, pinching his eyes shut so tight that bright colored spots explode behind his eyelids. He squeezes tighter and tighter, trying to make the colors burst into flames because in the story of Peter Pan, Peter says that you can see what Neverland looks like if you squeeze yours eyes shut so tight that the colors in your eyes look like they're on fire and then right before they catch, Neverland will appear. Regina doesn't like to read the Peter Pan story for bedtime, but Papa will if Roland asks really nice, and every time, he tries to see what Neverland looks like, but it never seems to-

"Okay, sweetheart," Regina says. "You can open your eyes."

Roland listens and blinks, squinting against the sunlight, confused, because it doesn't look like there's any surprise anywhere, but then he gasps.

A tree. The biggest, tallest, most gigantic tree he's ever seen stands in front of the huge building from earlier, and there are lights, so many lights spotted all over every branch, and they glitter in the sun, and the colors are so much better than any Neverland colors he could ever think of. And there's a star on the very tip top, just like the one Regina let him put on the tree at home, but this one is so much bigger and brighter and _perfect._ Everything about the tree is perfect and all Roland can do is stare in awe.

Papa tilts his head back. "Well, son? What do you think? Pretty impressive, huh?"

Roland looks down. "Papa, have you ever seen a tree so big?"

He chuckles. "No, my boy. I don't believe I have."

And that's saying something. Papa's seen everything. "Regina, have _you_ ever seen a tree so big? Even in the 'Chanted Forest?"

Regina shakes her head. "No, I can't say I have." She's smiling her best smile, the one she saves for special occasions, and she looks quite happy, especially when Henry comes over and wraps his arm around her shoulders.

"Henry, have you ever seen-"

"Nope, I haven't, buddy," Henry answers. "This is the biggest tree there is. You'll never find a bigger one."

Papa reaches up and lifts Roland from his shoulders, setting him down on the ground in front of him. There's probably a million people walking all around, but Roland ignores them and takes a few steps toward the tree. It seems to get more magical the closer he gets. He turns around. "Papa, can we _climb_ it?" he asks excitedly.

Papa laughs. "No, son, I don't think we can. We can take a picture in front of it, if you'd like. So that way we can take it with us when we leave."

Roland bounces on his toes and giggles. "Yes please!"

They take a whole bunch of pictures, and Roland can't decide which one he likes the best. There's one with him and Papa and Regina and Henry, and then one with just him and Henry, and then one with just him and Papa, and then Regina and "her boys" as she says, and then Papa with just Regina because he tricked her into taking one because she didn't want to take one, but he was stealthy and had Henry sneak one just as Papa was kissing her in front of the tree (Roland's positive _that_ one's not his favorite because kissing is gross). Miss Emma and Captain Killian take a bunch of pictures too, and then they take one with everyone all together and by the time they finish, Roland thinks his cheeks might just fall off.

They head off to find some lunch after that (thank goodness because it's been, like, forty hours since the soft pretzel), and Henry must be in a really good mood because he gives Roland a piggyback ride the whole way to the restaurant. As they walk, the city doesn't seem so smelly and loud anymore. Suddenly, Roland can smell pizza and popcorn and something spicy that would make Papa's tummy hurt and the smell of cookies that drifts out from an open bakery door. And he doesn't just hear noise, he hears bright silver bells jingling on street corners and Christmas music pouring from saxophone players on the sidewalk and people laughing and talking as they walk from store to store and street to street. And Regina's laughing too, and that's the prettiest sound he's ever heard, and it's even better when Papa laughs with her.

So maybe the city isn't so bad. At least at Christmas. Because at Christmas, the city has magical sounds and tasty smells and the most perfect tree in the whole wide world. And at Christmas, he gets to enjoy all the best things with all the best people. And at Christmas, that's enough.


	13. Le Petit Dejeuner

Breakfast has become their "thing." Inasmuch as they can have a thing, that is, considering they haven't had much time to actually be together to develop any other thing. But given the time they _have_ been able to spend together, breakfast has undoubtedly become their thing.

They had breakfast together the morning after she kissed him for the first time, when they had stayed up through the night and into the early morning, talking and trading kisses of varying intensity until the sun had begun to rise in the distance. She had asked, quite shyly for her, if he might like to join her at Granny's for some coffee and pancakes, or eggs if he'd rather. He hadn't been hungry then, not for food, but he went with her anyway, starved for her and her voice and her laughter, even though he had spent the entire night drinking her in.

The next time they had breakfast together, it had been in secret, just the two of them in her vault, still naked and sweaty and disheveled from their morning romp. She had told him he couldn't cook for her, but that didn't mean she couldn't cook for him. Or at least, magik some food for them to eat while they caught their breaths. They ate in bed that morning, tasting each other in between bites of fruit and waffles and sips of coffee. One of their mugs, he can't remember which one precisely, had gotten knocked over onto the floor, sent there by Regina's knee when she had practically tackled him back onto the pillows, intent on proving that she could _to_ last longer than him.

They didn't have breakfast together again for a very long time, not for another six weeks, because she was in Storybrooke and he was not, lost in a fake reality that he had desperately and foolishly tried to make work. And then one night, she had knocked on his door and pulled him from his false life into a devastatingly real one, betrayal and denial and hurt feelings around every corner. They had breakfast together that night. Well, early that morning, after they had been driving for a good while and needed to stop for food and coffee and fuel. It had been nothing fancy, just gas station egg sandwiches and burnt coffee, consumed in the deafening silence of their car as they drove toward Maine and the uncertain. But still, they had had breakfast.

The time after that had been the very next morning, when they were swallowing the loss of Emma and trying not to vomit. He had stayed awake with her that night, soothing her fears and wiping away her guilt. _It should have been me,_ she had said, repeated it over and over, always so ready to suffer, to die, ignorant to the hands of her family constantly reaching to pull her back from the edge. _It already was,_ he kept saying, stroking her hair, kissing her temple, trying to reassure himself as much as her that she was here and safe and not sucked up in a vortex of darkness or bleeding out on a false forest floor. That night had slowly turned to morning and he had brought her coffee as the sun rose, cooked eggs and bacon and somehow managed toast without scorching anything. She ate, barely, but she ate and they talked and somewhere in the scramble of their eggs, they managed to stitch themselves back together again.

In Camelot, breakfast was essentially the only time they had together. He didn't get to see her for most of the day, save for the times when he checked in on her among her stacks of books to make sure she'd eaten, to bring her tea, to carry her to bed when the night got away from her. They're both early risers, as luck would have it, and so they often woke together, in some tangled formation of limbs, and they dragged themselves out of bed, absorbing the small amount of time they had to spend together before the day started. Breakfast in Camelot was elaborate and filling, and he found he liked discovering what foods she's privy to (battered toast, any fruit, eggs- scrambled, not fried) and what foods she turns her nose up at (sausage, porridge, anything with tomatoes- she hates tomatoes). It was therapeutic for both of them, a moment to breathe among the whirlwind of their troubles, to be with each other and no one else, pretending to be a normal couple with normal problems and normal routines.

Breakfast, like all things, is upside down in the Underworld and he finds he doesn't much like the food offered by the land of unfinished business. He doesn't eat much when they're down there, and neither does she, despite his insistence that she should, she'll wear herself out if she's not careful, but she just tells him to stop fretting and to leave her be, she's a grown woman after all. So they don't have breakfast in the Underworld, not really, and most definitely not in a food sense. Instead, they walk. Traverse the strange yet familiar streets in the early hours of the morning, not looking for anything or heading anywhere in particular, just walking for the sake of it. And it's nice, if not as tasty, to spend the same time with her in the morning, when the day hasn't hardened her yet and they can just be with each other for an hour or so, pushing away the responsibilities of reality until the sun rises and the others with it.

Yes, they have other "things." Pixie dust and tattoos and freely given hearts, but of their few things, he's come to treasure breakfast most of all. It's followed them everywhere, the breaking of the day and of fast, and wherever they go, he knows they'll have their time in the morning, to eat and wake and be together, just the two of them. Just them.


	14. Drunk in Love

He's reading when he hears her come home, the unmistakeable sound of keys grinding into the lock on the front door permeating the silence of a house long put to bed. Robin glances over at the clock on the nightstand as he marks his page in _Wuthering Heights_ (one of Regina's favorites from this world) and tosses the novel toward the foot of the bed. 12:43. Later than he was expecting her, but early enough that he thinks they shouldn't have too many problems tomorrow morning.

Or rather, he thinks as much until he hears a particularly loud thud from downstairs.

Oh boy.

Robin slides on his slippers and walks out of the bedroom, tiptoeing past Roland's door on his way to the top of the steps. He leans over the banister and peers down into the foyer, illuminated only by the lamp on the front table. "Regina?" he calls softly.

No response.

Robin hums suspiciously and then trots down the stairs. He stops at the bottom and curves around the banister to face the front door, immediately fighting against a shit-eating grin when he sees the sight waiting for him.

Regina- queen, mayor, wife, and mother- is sitting on the floor by the door in a rather ungraceful position, legs sprawled out in front of her, one shoe on, the other in her hand. Her sinfully tight red dress is rucked halfway up her thighs, and one strap is dangerously close to falling off her shoulder. She's staring into space, glassy eyed, a dazed smile on her red lips. She doesn't seem to notice his presence.

"Regina," Robin says again, louder to get her attention.

It takes a moment, but then she blinks and looks up at him, smile growing even as her eyes stay spacy. "Hey you," she slurs, reaching out to him with the hand that holds her one stiletto. "I missed you."

Robin lets some of his smile show, walking toward her slowly. "I missed you too, my love," he replies. "Did you have a good time?"

Regina is staring at him a bit stupidly and she hums as he moves closer, a confused little, "Hmm?"

"At Ruby's party," Robin clarifies. "Did you have fun?"

She blinks up at him contently for a second longer and then, "Oh, yeah! It was great." She looks down at her legs and wiggles the toes of her bare foot, giggling softly to herself, but then her eyes widen. "Robin! I lost one of my shoes!"

Robin smiles wider and crouches down so he's eye-level with her. "Check your hand, darling… no, your _other_ hand."

"Oh," Regina smiles, holding up her rediscovered shoe. "I must've taken it off when I fell."

"You fell?"

"Huh uh." She pats the hardwood. "That's why I'm down here."

"I see. Well, how about we get you up, and then we'll head to bed?" Robin suggests, straightening.

"Okay!" she agrees happily, attempting to stand by herself, failing rather miserably, and ending up on her side with her legs tangled together. "Robin?"

"Yes, my love?"

"I'm stuck."

Robin chuckles and bends down, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her to her feet, steadying her as she wobbles. "Can you climb the stairs? Or would you like some assistance?" he asks, keeping his arm around her.

Regina isn't listening. She's practically hanging off him, smiling as she walks her fingers up and down the front of his t-shirt, humming some song softly to herself. "Hey, you know what?" she whispers loudly, leaning in close to his ear.

"What?"

"I think you're really cute." The way she says it, as if it's some super important secret no one can know about, makes him grin all the more. Gods, this woman.

"Do you now?" he plays along, digging his fingers into her side and making her giggle.

"Mmmmmhmmmmm."

"Well, you know what else?"

"What?"

"I think you're really cute, too," he whispers into her ear. "And I _also_ think that you should get on my back right now so I can carry you up the stairs."

"Like a piggyback ride?" she asks conspiratorially.

" _Just_ like a piggyback ride."

Regina smiles excitedly and bounces on her toes as Robin turns around, crouching low and reaching his hands back to catch her legs. She jumps on enthusiastically, colliding with his back hard enough to warrant a slight 'Oof!' as Robin wraps his fingers around her thighs. Her dress bunches up higher with her movement, so he's grasping bare skin and it is incredibly tempting, but it is also late and she is much too drunk to partake in any nefarious activities, especially not when they have to get up in the morning.

So Robin adjusts his grip on her, pushing her up a little higher on his back, and turns for the stairs, taking careful steps so as not to drop her.

Regina loops her arms around his shoulders and lets her hands dangle in front of his chest. Her cheek is right next to his ear, and he can practically feel her smile as he starts to climb the stairs, eliciting a girlish giggle. "You give good piggyback rides," she murmurs into his ear.

"Well, thank you, my love," he answers. "They are Roland-approved, you know."

"You should carry me like this _everywhere,"_ she declares, squeezing her arms tighter around his shoulders.

"I'll remind you of that in the morning," Robin chuckles as they reach the top of the steps. "I'm sure then you'll feel differently about having me carry you through all of city hall to get to the mayor's office."

"Mmmm… nope," Regina returns, popping the 'p' right into his ear. "I don't think so."

Robin shakes his head, smiling, as he opens their bedroom door and releases his grip on her legs, letting her slide gently down to the floor. She teeters a little, what with her one shoe and the alcohol and all, but she manages to stay upright.

"Why don't you work on taking off your other shoe, and I'll fetch your pajamas?" Robin suggests, guiding her to the bed and making her sit with a hand to her shoulder.

"But what should I do with this one?" Regina asks, quite stricken, as she holds up her stiletto.

"Well, you already took that one off," Robin says. "So what do we do with shoes when we're not wearing them?"

Regina twists her mouth to the side, as if contemplating quantum physics, and then lights up. "We put them away!"

"That's right. So I'll take the shoe you've already removed and put it away for you, and once you get the other one off, I'll put that one away too."

Regina smiles brightly. "You're such a good husband. It's a good thing I decided to keep you."

Robin chuckles and rolls his eyes, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of her head. "Yes, my love, I would say it's a very good thing." He takes her stiletto in hand and heads to the closet, setting it in an empty space on her shoe rack. Now for pajamas. He could find her silk ones, but those are nice and he has a feeling Regina might experience some rebellion from her stomach soon. Better to not get the silk ones covered in throw up, should it come to that.

T-shirt it is.

Robin walks out of the closet and over to his dresser, pulling out one his softer shirts, a green one Regina has a habit of touching whenever he wears it. He shuts the dresser drawer just as a familiar electronic ringing permeates the silence of the room.

He turns to find Regina- finally barefoot, thank goodness- holding up her phone (and where had she been hiding that? Lord knows she had no room in her dress for it) with the unmistakable FaceTime screen up.

Great. She's calling someone.

"Love, what are you doing?" Robin asks, walking back over to the bed. "It's late. We need to-"

"Emma!" Regina shrieks in delight when her call is finally answered. How she can tell it's Emma is beyond Robin, considering the only thing visible on the screen is a few dark blobs amidst the backdrop of technicolor flashing lights.

"Regina!" Emma's voice shouts back. "Guys, it's Regina!"

A chorus of other female voices echo similar exclamations of glee.

"Oh my god, we _miss_ you!" Ruby cries from somewhere.

"I miss you too!" Regina says. "But guys, I need your help. I think I left my phone at the bar somewhere."

Robin tilts his head back, sighing in both exasperation and amusement.

"Oh my god, are you serious?" someone who could either be Snow or Ashley asks.

"Yeah, I need you to look for it!"

"We totally will, won't we guys?"

"Of course!"

"Absolutely!"

Robin clears his throat. "Uh, Regina? You're holding your phone."

She tilts her head and blinks, and then starts laughing. "Oh my god, you're right! I am!" she giggles. "Emma!"

"What?!"

"I'm _holding_ my phone! I didn't lose it!"

A round of "Yay!"s get passed around and Robin lets it go on for a moment or two, but then he leans in to murmur in Regina's ear, "Darling, we really should be getting to sleep-"

"Is that Robin?! Guys, say hi to Robin!" Emma yells.

"Hi, Robin!" they all shout in unison.

Robin turns toward the phone and smiles politely. "Hi, ladies. Enjoying yourselves?"

He gets indistinguishable answers in response. "I think it's time we say goodnight, love. You don't want to be grumpy in the morning."

"I won't be _grumpy,"_ Regina dismisses, scrunching her nose a bit, and it's quite adorable, but the clock on the nightstand says it's past one o'clock now and they have a busy day tomorrow and despite what she says, Regina will most definitely be grumpy and more than a bit hungover, so the time for adorable antics is over.

"Alright, time for bed," Robin orders, taking the phone from Regina's hand and hitting the red button that ends the call.

"Hey, I was talking to them," Regina pouts as Robin tugs her back to her feet.

"There will be plenty of time to talk to them tomorrow," he sighs, turning her around and pulling the zipper of her dress down to her hips. He pushes the straps off her shoulders and the fabric starts to fall away, revealing the red lace underneath. Robin bites the inside of his cheek because drunk or not, she's the sexiest thing on two legs and he can't help the twitch in his pants.

Regina spins back around as the dress puddles at her feet, a coy little smile on her face. "We don't have to go to sleep," she says, coasting her palms up his chest. "We can have a little… fun first." She presses herself against him, dropping a kiss to the side of his neck.

Robin swallows, itching to just devour her, and he very nearly does, his resolve evaporating as she continues to kiss and suck all over his neck. But he knows how drunk she is, knows how unfocused her eyes are, and as much as he wants to have his wicked way with her, she's not in any state for sex. So he grips her hips, and pushes her back gently.

"Not tonight, love," Robin says. "We need to go to sleep."

She pouts again, her bottom lip jutting out as Robin reaches behind her and unhooks her bra because he knows she'll be even more grumpy tomorrow if he lets her sleep in that. Apparently, that was the wrong move to dissuade her because her eyebrow quirks up and she gets that look on her face again, hands reaching to hook into the waistband of his pants.

"We can sleep later," she breathes into his ear, her bare breasts ghosting against his chest.

Robin sucks in a breath, shivering as her fingers trace against the sensitive skin of his hips. "Regina…" he warns, voice a bit thick.

"Yes?" she purrs, tongue darting out to trace the shell of his ear.

Oh, it would feel so good, to just fuck her, hard and fast, it's been at least a week, they're long overdue for lovemaking. She wants him, he wants her, it would be so good...

But no, no, she's drunk and they need to sleep and get up in the morning. So Robin pushes away his arousal and reaches around Regina to grab his t-shirt from the bed. She looks a little dazed, probably from both the liquor and confusion that he's not reciprocating her advances, so she doesn't exactly realize what he's doing, but when he pulls the shirt over her head and tugs it down for her head to pop through, she scowls, that bottom lip jutting out again.

"Hey…" she whines.

"Another time, my love," Robin promises, maneuvering her arms to slide through the sleeves. He presses a kiss to her forehead and then pulls down the duvet, helping her get into bed. "I'm going to get you some water, and I want you to drink all of it, alright?"

"That's not what I'm thirsty for," Regina mutters, crossing her arms like Roland does when he's frustrated.

Robin chuckles as he heads to the bathroom, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and filling it from the tap. "Maybe not, but it's what you need at the moment," he says, walking back over to the bed and handing her the cup.

"I need _you_ at the moment," she mumbles, gulping down nearly half the water nevertheless.

"You can have me tomorrow," Robin promises, taking the cup and setting it on the nightstand after she drains the rest of it. "When you're a bit more sober, and a bit less grumpy."

"Wouldn't be grumpy if you just fucked me," she grumbles, burrowing down under the covers and turning away from him petulantly.

Robin lifts his eyes to the ceiling. Apparently he acquired a fourth child and wasn't aware of it. Still, he can't help but laugh to himself over her display of bitterness that is more appropriate for the likes of Roland or Lainey. He'll have to rib her good for this one in the morning.

Robin peels off his shirt, clicks off the light, and climbs into bed, eyeing her obstinately turned back with amusement. "What, so just because I won't have sex with you, I don't get to hold you either?"

She moves her shoulders in what he thinks is a shrug. "I'm not stopping you, am I?" she huffs irritatedly.

He shouldn't find her temper so endearing, but he does. And she is not stopping him from holding her, so Robin rolls to his side and shifts until he's pressed up against her, looping an arm over her waist to press her back closer to his front. Despite her put-off attitude, she noticeably relaxes under his touch, a slow breath escaping her lips. "Good night," she sighs, reaching for his hand and twining their fingers together.

"Good night, my love. Sweet dreams," Robin murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of her head. "You're going to be so hungover tomorrow."

"Queens don't get hungover."

"Mayors do."

"If you're not going to fuck me, then shut up and go to sleep."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

* * *

It's not that sunny, but there might as well be a spotlight pointed right in her eyes, it feels that bright. Sure, she has sunglasses on, and a baseball hat, and there is a decent amount of clouds in the sky, but her head is pounding, and her stomach is rolling, and the sun just doesn't mix well with those things. She's going to kill Emma Swan and Ruby Lucas for talking her into all those shots of tequila last night. Throw up on them, and _then_ kill them. Sounds like a good plan.

Robin had been right. They should have gone to bed sooner. Because now she has to sit on metal bleachers for almost an entire day as Henry's baseball team makes it through the rounds of the spring tournament. Who knew baseball fans could be so _loud?_ She's switching Henry to a quiet sport first thing tomorrow. Like tennis. Or golf. Or archery.

Speaking of archery, her gifted marksman headed off awhile ago to her some water so she can wash down another dose of ibuprofen and he has yet to return. She would turn to look around for him, but that would involve moving, and moving might involve retching. Staring straight ahead would probably be the better choice.

A moment later, a perspiring bottle of water is suddenly being held out in front of her and Regina sends up a silent thank you to the gods as she takes the beverage and swallows down another handful of pills.

Robin- smug bastard that he is- chuckles as he sits back down beside her, pressing a kiss to the side of her hat. "How ya feeling?" he asks. "Still grumpy?"

"Keep asking and you'll get a fireball for an answer."

Robin laughs again and takes a sip of his own water. "Don't worry, love. Only six more hours."

Regina groans and pulls her hat down lower. She's never drinking again.


	15. Camelot Nights

Roland hasn't been sleeping well lately. He fights at bedtime, refuses to lie down, keeps his eyes obstinately open despite Robin's assurances that he's safe, that Henry is in the room right next to him, and Papa and Regina are right down the hall, remember? Maybe it's the side effects of the memory potion so recently administered to him, or maybe it's a result of Robin's near death experience a few nights ago, but whatever it is, his son is not sleeping soundly and it's starting to wear on Robin's patience.

He loves his son, dearly and wholly, but there are times when he wishes parenting was easier, particularly on the nights where it takes over an hour to get his son to sleep. Luckily, Roland had gone down relatively easily tonight. There were a few tears, a few displays of temper, but eventually his boy settled and after one more bedtime story and a wish for good dreams, Roland finally closed his eyes and drifted off.

Now, as Robin makes his way back to his own chambers, he's starting to regret telling Regina not to wait up for him. He had anticipated spending much longer in Roland's room and he'd been loathe to make Regina stay awake longer than necessary, not when she could be sleeping and recharging and taking care of herself for once. She'll be asleep when he gets back to the room, he just knows it. There's no way she'd be able to keep her eyes open for longer than the twenty minutes it took him to get Roland down, not with how hard she's been working.

And he's glad that she'll hopefully be getting a good night's sleep, even if it means he won't get to enjoy her company. He'd been hoping they'd actually get to spend some time together tonight, just the two of them, but if he has to sacrifice that in exchange for holding a sleepy Regina in his arms, well, he supposes there are worse things in life.

He makes his way down the corridor quietly, stopping once at Henry's room to ensure the lad is firstly, asleep, and secondly, that Roland hadn't managed to hop on over and disturb Henry in the time it took Robin to close the door and walk halfway down the hall (sneaky, his son is, and- as Regina often teases- where on earth could he have gotten that from?). Check to the first, and… check to the second.

Robin closes Henry's door soundlessly and heads for his own room, hoping Regina remembered to put a fresh log in the fire before she went to bed (last night they had both forgotten and by morning, the fire was out and the room felt like the bloody North Pole).

Outside their door, Robin reaches for the handle, but an odd sound makes him pause. It's muffled and not nearby… no, wait it is, it's… it's coming from the other side of the door, inside their room, and that's strange, considering Regina has probably long since fallen asleep. It sounds like a whimper, almost, or a bitten back cry. Whatever it is, it is certainly not a calm noise and Robin's stomach swoops suddenly.

Regina. She must be having a nightmare. She must be crying out in her sleep, fighting blindly against whatever darkness has consumed her dreams tonight. Robin's hands itch with the need to comfort, to drive away her past horrors, and he reaches for the door handle again, pushing it open with intent. Regina needs him, and he won't stand by idly while she struggles-

Oh.

That's-

Oh.

Regina, great gods above, is not having a nightmare. She's not even asleep. Doesn't seem to be the least bit tired, by the looks of it. What she is, though, is naked. Gloriously naked, not a stitch of clothing on her body, all of her bare and open and exposed to the room and to him. And fucking hell, she is whimpering. But not from a nightmare, no. No, those wonderful (and they are wonderful, now that he knows they're not being caused by her pain) sounds are being driven by the two fingers that are currently pumping in and out of her wet, wet center. Her eyes are closed, her lip caught between her teeth, her back arched slightly as she seeks pleasure from her own marvelous hand.

Fucking hell.

Bloody gods above.

Robin freezes in the doorway, dumbstruck. His cock doesn't freeze, though. No, it springs to life quicker than he ever thought possible and if he had thought nothing turns him on like Regina's hands on him, then that is nothing compared to how turned on he is with Regina's hands on _herself._

She bites her lip on a moan, her eyes still shut tightly, and Robin suddenly becomes aware that the door is practically wide open. Considering this really isn't a show intended for the entire corridor, he lets the door close with a slight bang, unintentional, but his finer motor skills are incapacitated at the moment.

Regina jumps at the noise and her hand flies up and away, scrabbling to grab the covers and pull them over herself. She's startled, clearly, but when she sees him standing there, slack jawed and bulging, her face switches from surprised to seductive, coy smile spreading across her lips. She lets the covers fall away, re-revealing her body to his hungry gaze, and- gods give him strength- her hand skirts down to her slick folds again.

"I didn't think you'd be back so soon," she breathes as her fingers swirl lazily over and through her sex.

Robin swallows, throat dry, and somehow finds the ability to speak. "I didn't think you'd still be awake," he manages, mesmerized by the slow movements of her hand.

"I got a little… distracted," she murmurs, breath hitching at an apparent sharp press of her fingers.

"Yeah… I can- I can see that," Robin says dumbly, licking his lips. God, she's so fucking wet, he can see it from the doorway, can hear the slick slide of skin on skin ( _her_ skin on _her_ skin). He blinks, shakes his head once, clears his throat. _Get it together, Robin. It's the not first time you've seen her naked and wet._ "And just what were you distracted by?" he asks, voice lowering, stepping slowly toward the bed.

She inhales deeply, one finger dipping down and pushing in. "You," is her breathy reply, hooded eyes trailing up and down his body as he comes to stand beside the bed.

"You were distracted by me?" Robin asks, returning her explorative gaze with one of his own. "Thinking about me?"

"Mmhmm," she hums, spreading her legs farther apart.

"What about me?" Robin prompts, reaching out a hand to trail teasingly over her stomach, down to the top of her thigh and back up.

Regina shivers at his touch, arches into him slightly. "Mm, your hands," she gasps, her head grinding back into her pillow.

Robin smirks and licks his lips. "Well, I'm quite distracted by your hands at the moment," he says, coasting his fingers up to run underneath her breast, earning himself another shiver.

"Wish they were yours," Regina sighs, pulling her hand away and reaching out for him.

Robin bends down and kisses her heatedly as his fingers curl and splay over all her smooth skin. Regina wraps her arms around his shoulders, trying to tug him down to her, but Robin pulls back slightly, nipping her bottom lip as he goes. He reaches for her hand, the one that had been so marvelously distracting and moves it back down against her sex, pressing just enough that she inhales sharply.

"I want to watch you," he husks, mouth hovering over hers. "Touch yourself again."

Regina whimpers as his hand presses against her again. "But…" she starts to protest, reaching down to rub his straining erection.

Robin kisses her again and pulls that hand away. "After," he promises. "I want to see you first. Watch you come for me with your own hand."

Regina moans at his words, bottom lip getting caught between her teeth. She hesitates for a moment, but then she swallows and nods. She threads her fingers through his hair and pulls him down to her, tangling their tongues deliciously.

Robin lets her lead, lets her get distracted by the kiss, and seizes the opportunity to push his fingers past hers and dip inside her wet, warm center. Regina gasps at the sudden sensation, mouth hanging open as he pumps his fingers slowly once, twice, and then picks up the pace, plunging in and out at a speed that borders on punishing.

Regina lights up for him immediately, back arching as a half-moan half-scream tumbles out of her mouth, hands scrabbling to clutch at the sheets, at his arms, her whole body growing tense. Robin thrusts and curls, finding the right spot and hitting it relentlessly, pumping harder and harder until he feels her walls start to tighten, to flutter around his fingers. She is barrelling close to the edge and quickly, her thighs starting to tremble, her moans growing sharper, she's nearly there… and then he stops.

The sound of indignation Regina lets out as Robin removes his dripping fingers is anything but regal, and it has Robin laughing as he steps away from the bed.

"Why'd you stop?" she demands.

"I said I want to watch you make yourself come," he reminds her, reaching up to unlace his tunic.

Regina scowls. "But-"

"Make yourself come, and then I'll do whatever you want," Robin placates, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it over the back of a chair.

Regina sighs, annoyed, but her irritation loses some of its effect when she not-so-subtly rakes her eyes over his bare torso.

Robin smirks. "I take it you weren't distracted thinking about _just_ my hands?" he asks, toeing off his boots.

"Well, your hands are one my favorite things about you," Regina purrs, trailing her own hand down her stomach, stopping just above where he knows she is aching with need.

"Is that so?" Robin says, reaching for the laces on his trousers. "I have to admit, I'm quite a fan of _your_ hands."

Regina hums, a devilish glint to her eyes. "Well then, why don't you watch what these hands can do?"

Robin swallows thickly, freezing in undoing his pants as Regina starts to slowly rub circles over her clit, her head falling back as she gasps. He blows out a breath and finds the ability to unlace his trousers the rest of the way, letting them fall to the floor and stepping out of them. "Does that feel good, love?" he breathes, slowly stroking his length as he watches.

"Mmhmm," Regina groans, back arching and relaxing. She trails her free hand up her side until she reaches a breast and starts plucking at her hardened nipples. "God, I want you to touch me."

"Yeah? Where do you want me to touch you?" Robin encourages, taking a step closer to the bed. "Do you want me to play with your breasts? Take your nipples in my mouth and lick and suck until you can't take the teasing anymore?"

"God yes," Regina moans. Her eyes close and her brow furrows as her hand moves faster, rubbing and pressing against her swollen clit.

"Do you want my fingers back inside you?" Robin continues, climbing up on the bed to kneel beside her. "Curling and thrusting just right? Do you want me to hit that spot over and over again until you scream?"

Regina whimpers almost desperately, her head tilting back to grind against the pillow as she plunges her own fingers back inside. "Oh please," she pleads, muscles growing tenser with every pump of her hand.

"Or maybe you want my mouth?" Robin rasps, bending over her, planting his palms flat on either side of her head. "You want me to flick my tongue against your clit? To suck… and suck… and suck until you are begging me to stop? Do you want me to make you come on my tongue?"

Regina nods frantically, jaw hanging open as she thrusts her fingers harder, faster, back arching. "Robin," she gasps, free hand clutching hard at his arm.

"Make yourself come, Regina," he orders, dropping his head until his mouth hovers over hers. "Make yourself come and then I will fuck you anyway you want. You'd like that, wouldn't you? My cock inside you, hitting that spot just right. My mouth on your neck, just behind your ear, my fingers on your clit…"

Regina comes with a breathless shout of his name, every muscle tensing as her hips rock against her hand, still pumping as she rides out her orgasm. Robin pulls back just enough to watch her, taking in the glorious sight that is his love as she drowns in pleasure. Gods, he is one lucky bastard.

Regina goes boneless then, relaxing back against the mattress, chest heaving as she catches her breath. Her eyes are still closed, but she opens them when Robin brushes strands of hair off her forehead. "Stunning," he breathes.

Regina quirks a half smile and then she's reaching up and pulling his head down to her, tangling their mouths in a kiss that is wet and warm and toe curling. Robin hums against her lips, thinking of all the delicious ways he could have her right now. Just like this, on her back. From behind. On their sides. Her on top. Against the wall. Oh gods, what he wouldn't do to be in her vault right now. So many mirrors to press her up against so he can watch her face as he fucks her senseless.

Robin wraps an arm around her back and flips them, rolling onto his back until she's straddled on top of him, still a little breathless and flushed.

"We need to be quiet," Regina murmurs, trailing her fingers teasingly down his chest. "These walls aren't as thick as they look."

Robin scoffs. "Love, I haven't gotten to have you in bloody ages. If I want to hear you scream, you're going to scream."

Regina smirks as she slowly rolls her hips over his cock. "Confident, are we?"

Robin returns her smirk with one of his own and reaches for her still wet hand, guiding it to his mouth and sucking her fingers into his mouth one by one. Regina breathes deeply as she watches, pupils dilating with every swirl of his tongue.

Robin lets her last finger go with a soft 'pop,' keeping his hold on her wrist. "Not only am I confident," he begins, raising his hips to grind against her, earning a gasp for his efforts. "I'm also starving. Scoot up."

Regina raises an eyebrow. "I thought you said _I_ get to pick how you fuck me."

"You do," Robin returns. "After I get a taste."

Regina hums in faux skepticism. "Adding conditions to our agreement? I'm not so sure that's the best business practice, Mr. Locksley," she teases, crawling up his torso regardless.

"Are you saying you _don't_ want me to eat you out?" Robin says, hands gripping her thighs as she straddles his face.

"No," Regina breathes as he gives her a cursory lick. "I'm saying it's obvious you don't know the common courtesies of business deals."

"Your Majesty, your pleasure is my business," Robin rasps, sucking kisses along the seam of her thigh. "And business is about to explode."

He hears her laugh at his terrible joke, her nails scratching lightly as she threads her fingers through his hair. Robin grins against her, can't help it, besotted with her as he is, and he turns his head to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, lets it linger so she knows how intentional it is. Wonderful woman, his love. He glances up to find her looking down at him, her smile a bit dopey. He smiles back, presses another kiss to her thigh, and then bends to his task, turning his attention to her wet folds.

And is she still ever wet, the lull in their activity doing nothing to abate her arousal. Robin licks flatly up her entrance, stopping briefly when he reaches her clit to give it a quick, teasing suck. She groans at that, her head tilting back as her hips roll above him. She's still so keyed up he could make her come in no time flat, but he wants to make her beg for it, wants to take his sweet old time, so he diverts his attention lower, swiping his tongue through her folds and sweeping into her entrance.

Regina mutters something, an expletive of some kind, but Robin can't quite make it out because her thighs squeeze around his head, covering his ears. He moves his tongue in and out of her, going deep then shallow, sucking kisses to her less sensitive parts every now and then. Her hips start to grind down on him, circling and rolling. Whatever she's gasping is getting louder with every movement of his tongue and soon he can just make out, "Oh fuck, just like that… god-hnng… god, your tongue…"

Robin smirks to himself, relishing in every moan, every grind of her hips, every deeper shade of pink her sensitive skin grows as she gets needier and needier. He's just about to take pity on her and move back up to her clit, but then he freezes all together.

Because her hand is on his cock. Regina's hand is on his cock and she's pumping him slowly, firmly, tortuously. He groans against her and she whimpers in response, the vibrations no doubt rebounding through her. "Little minx," he mutters to himself, forcing himself to not thrust into her hand. He has to focus. He still needs to make her come and she's distracting him. He takes her clit in his mouth and sucks hard, feeling more than hearing her response as her thighs clench tighter around him and her hand falls out of sync around his cock.

Robin sucks again, releases, and then sucks again, holding until Regina is practically bucking against him, her hand falling lax around his length. He releases her again and goes in for the finish, but then she's rising up off his face and moving back down his torso.

Robin licks his lips and tilts his head in confusion.

Regina, breathing hard and quite riled up, shakes her head. "I want to come around your cock," she explains, taking him in hand again and pumping up and down, quicker than before.

Robin just manages a nod, his head grinding back into the pillow as she works him over. "Fuck," he grunts, unable to stop his hips from jerking. She squeezes her fingers around his tip, pulling his foreskin down just enough to expose his most sensitive skin and driving him half-mad.

"Love, now- gods help me- now would be ideal," Robin grits out, clenching his fists in the sheets.

Regina wastes no time. With a smug smile on her face, she rises up onto her knees and sinks down onto him, enveloping his cock until they are pressed hip to hip. Robin's brain short circuits for a split second, his mind spasming at the feel of her perfect wet warmth surrounding his length.

"Oh gods," he groans at the same time Regina's jaw falls open, a wordless gasp falling from her lips. Robin grips her waist, urging her to move, and it takes a moment, but then she's bouncing up and down on his cock and all coherent thought is apparently lost for both of them.

Well, almost all coherent thought. Robin has a fleeting moment, in between his grunts and moans, where his mind is consumed with how much he fucking loves this woman. Regina, his argumentative queen, his stubborn mayor, his bloody amazing soulmate, he loves her so damn much. And he hates that she's working so hard, hates that she blames herself for this mess that they're in, and he's suddenly overwhelmed with the need to be as close to her as possible, so she knows just how much he feels for her.

Robin sits up and wraps an arm around Regina's back, pulling her torso flush against his as they continue to push each other to the edge. The change in angle is evidently a good one for Regina because her head snaps back, her moans growing sharper with every press of their hips. Robin attacks her neck, landing kisses all over her sensitive skin, groaning at the feel of her breasts moving against his chest. The tightening in his groin is mounting and he's not going to be able to hold back much longer, so he snakes his free hand in between their bodies and presses hard against Regina's clit, rubbing and rubbing and-

She comes with a scream, his name getting broken up in her shouts of pleasure. Her nails gouge his arms and Robin would care, but one, two, three more thrusts and he's following her over the edge, spilling every drop he has into her heat.

Regina slumps against him, completely boneless, and Robin holds her tightly, pressing kisses to her shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. Regina mumbles something into his neck, pulling her head up when Robin threads his fingers into her hair.

"What'd you say?" he asks, thumb rubbing over the apple of her cheek.

"I said, so much for keeping quiet," she repeats with a tired smile.

Robin laughs. "Well, the boys are asleep and if Snow and David are still awake, then they're probably doing the same thing we just were."

Regina scrunches up her nose. "Let's not talk about that."

Robin laughs again, trailing his hands down her sides to rest at her hips. "Okay, then can I ask you something?"

Regina nods, fighting against a yawn.

"Did you actually turn yourself on thinking about my hands?"

Regina scoffs indignantly and whacks his bicep half-heartedly.

"Hey!" Robin protests. "I'm just wondering because you said you did."

"I say a lot of things when I'm..."

"Horny?" Robin supplies, earning himself another smack.

Regina glares at him playfully for a moment, and then rolls her eyes. "If you _must_ know, yes I did," she admits, ignoring his rather cheeky grin. "But to be fair, it was your fault. You were peeling that orange at dinner and… my mind started thinking of… other things you could be peeling." She clears her throat. "Like my clothes. Off me."

"Oh, so you've been all riled up since dinner, then?" Robin teases.

"Yes, so you can imagine my predicament when I thought you'd be gone for an hour trying to get Roland down," Regina says, stifling another yawn. She rests her head in the crook of his shoulder, nose pressed against his neck, breath warm on his skin.

Robin hums, trailing his hand up and down her back. "Yes, I can imagine," he murmurs, dropping a kiss to her cheek. "I'm glad I got back earlier than you thought."

Regina exhales slowly, her lashes tickling his skin as she closes her eyes. "Yeah," she sighs. "Me too." She nuzzles her cheek against his shoulder and yawns again. "I love you."

Robin smiles and presses a kiss to her hair. "I love you too, milady," he replies. He'd say more, would wax eloquent about all the ways he does love her, but her breathing is slowing and she's growing heavier against him. She has to be exhausted. How did she even have the energy stay awake so they could do all this?

"We should sleep," Robin murmurs, coasting his hand up and down her back.

Regina nods, nose bumping his neck. "I'm comfortable right here," she mumbles.

Robin chuckles. "Then sleep well, my love," he whispers, laying back against the mattress, keeping her cradled against his chest. He wriggles just enough to slip out of her and then reaches to pull the sheet across their bodies.

Regina is already asleep, if her deep breathing is any indication, but Robin stays awake a little longer, trailing patterns over her skin, pressing kisses to her forehead, holding her a little tighter than necessary. He hopes she knows how much he loves her. Hopes she knows that he would do anything for her. He thinks she does, but even if she doesn't, he's not worried. He has an entire lifetime to prove his love. And if he's lucky, he'll have an entire lifetime of being loved by her in return. Gods, he is one lucky bastard.


	16. Waiting

He doesn't often notice how short she is, since most of the time she's striding around in towering heels, and gods help anyone who points out the rather unintimidating height of the quite intimidating queen, but there are moments, every now and then, when he's struck by just how… well… _pocket-sized_ she really is.

He's humming as he comes through the front door, in a particularly good mood with the news he just received on the way home, and he's very near to whistling as he tosses his keys on the front table. "Regina?" he calls, toeing off his boots and setting them on the shoe mat.

"Living room," comes her reply.

He whistles an off-key rendition of some awful song that seems to be on every radio station these days as he flips through the pile of mail sitting on the dining room table. Bills, bills, a light blue envelope that no doubt contains a birthday party invitation from one of Roland's classmates, and a coupon booklet from the supermarket. Robin drops the mail back on the table and meanders his way to the living room, stopping in the doorway at the sight before him.

The furniture is all in different places, not at all like how it was this morning or like how it was for the last five years, for that matter. The couch is rotated so it's back is facing him, the recliners are in different corners, the coffee table is at an angle, the ficus tree is closer to the window, just everything is all flipped around. And Regina is standing in the middle of it all. Or rather, she's standing above it all on the couch, hands on her hips as she surveys what can only be her own handiwork.

"Uh… this is different," Robin says, taking a tentative step into the room.

Regina glances at him over her shoulder. "It was time for a change," she declares. "I was just about to switch the curtains."

"Are you no longer partial to forest green?" Robin asks with a smile, crossing his arms.

She rolls her eyes at him, turning back to study the new layout. "If you must know, I needed something to do," she answers. "Waiting makes me restless."

Robin grins, something she can't see with her back turned, and reaches into his pocket. "Well, lucky for you, you don't have to wait anymore."

Regina spins back around, wobbling a bit on the cushions, eyes suddenly wide. "What do you mean?"

Robin holds up a folded piece of official-looking paper. "All that's left is your signature," he explains as confusion and hope blossom on her face at the same time. "And then Roland's officially yours." He smiles proudly, soaking in her expression of disbelief. "What do you say, love? Do you want to become a mother again?"

Regina lets out a little sob at his question, tears swimming in her eyes as she shakes her head, staring at him with so much hope and love he can hardly take it.

Robin takes a step toward her, but he stops when she exclaims, "Yes!" and scrambles over the back of the couch, jumping into his open arms. He catches her easily, clutching her to him tightly as she wraps her legs around his waist, arms thrown over his shoulders.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she repeats into the crook of his neck, wetting his shirt with her happy tears.

Robin chuckles and threads a hand through her hair, tugging her back just enough to look at her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear you. Was that a yes?" he teases.

Regina's smile only grows as she rests her forehead against his. "Yes," she murmurs, ducking in and capturing his lips softly.

Robin's smile nearly breaks their kiss up, he couldn't stop if he tried, tightening his arms around her, overwhelmed with the knowledge that he's holding his love and now, the mother of his son.


	17. Playing Doctor

"Daddy, can I play doctor with you?"

Robin looks up from his book and smiles at his daughter, toy stethoscope around her neck and fake plastic glasses atop her nose. "Why, I was just waiting for my appointment, Dr. Locksley," he says, setting his book aside.

Morgan giggles and skips over to him, red braids bouncing.

He holds out his arms and helps her climb onto the couch, settling her in his lap. Playing doctor has become her favorite pastime, ever since Robin told her about all the doctors and nurses who had to help Mommy and the baby in the hospital. Roland and Henry had tired of being patients pretty early on, but Robin is always willing to do anything that will make his little girl happy, even if that means being poked and prodded on a daily basis.

"So, doc, you think you can help me?" he asks, tickling Morgan's belly.

She laughs and pushes his hand away. "Well, what seems to be the problem, Mr. Daddy?"

"Oh, my throat hurts terribly bad," Robin grouses dramatically, making his voice hoarse as he brings his hand to his neck. "I can barely talk."

Morgan taps her chin as she studies him. "Hmm… did you do anything to your throat that might give it an ouchie?"

"He probably hurt it singing," Regina answers for him as she enters the living room, baby Autumn tucked in her arms. "Lord knows he hurt my ears."

Robin scowls animatedly as Regina settles into the rocking chair across from the couch, grinning coyly back at him over their daughter's head.

Morgan giggles. "Mommy's right, Daddy. You probably _did_ hurt your throat singing."

"Hey!" Robin exclaims in mock hurt. "You said you like when I sing!"

"I do!" Morgan assures him. "But only because it makes me laugh."

Robin crosses his arms and pouts. "I don't suppose you've got anything to fix my singing voice, doc?"

Morgan shakes her head. "No, but I do have something for your throat." She reaches into the front pocket of her overalls and pulls out a pack of fruit snacks. "Here. Take one of these everyday with your coffee at breakfast."

Robin studies the small plastic bag with great interest. "And these will heal my throat right up?"

Morgan nods. "Uh huh. And if you're good, you can ask Mommy for a popsicle. They help with ouchie throats, too."

Robin chuckles and kisses her forehead. "What good advice, doc. I'll be sure to do that." He looks up at Regina who is drawing patterns over Autumn's stomach, smiling down at the sleeping infant. "You know, Dr. Locksley, new mommies and new babies need check ups, too," he whispers.

Morgan twists around to look at Regina and her baby sister. "They do?"

"Uh huh. They need doctors to make sure that they're both healthy and strong and that everything is okay."

Morgan scrunches her eyebrows together. "That's not as easy as a sore throat, Daddy. How am I supposed to check all that?"

"Oh, it's quite simple, actually," Robin explains. "New mommies and new babies need lots of hugs and kisses and snuggles. And I think you're quite good at all those things, aren't you?"

Morgan's face lights up as she nods. "Mommy did say I give the best hugs. Even better than you!"

"Well, then I guess you better give her one right now, huh? To make sure everything's healthy, right?"

Morgan scrambles down his legs and scurries over to Regina, exclaiming, "Mommy, you're my next patient!"

Regina raises her eyebrows. "Am I?" she asks, shifting Autumn over to make room for all the energy and excitement of a four-year-old.

Morgan nods. "Uh huh. Daddy said new mommies and new babies need check ups to make sure that everything is okay. And I have just the right medicine for you."

Before Regina can question just what her prescription might entail, Morgan's wrapping her up in a big bear hug, little arms squeezing the life out of her neck. Regina laughs as she curls her free arm around Morgan's back, being careful not to jostle the baby. "Hugs are the best medicine?" she asks.

"Yep! And so are kisses!" Morgan declares, placing a wet smooch on Regina's cheek. She leans over and places a much more delicate, careful peck on Autumn's nose. "Are you and Autumn all healthy now, Mommy?"

"Oh, yes, we are both just perfect," Regina answers with a smile, placing a kiss of her own on Morgan's forehead. She looks over at Robin and exchanges a sweet smile with him, struck by the look of adoration in his eyes. "I have an idea, Dr. Locksley," Regina says, turning back to Morgan. "If you're free, why don't we give Autumn to Daddy, and you and I can start making dinner?"

"Okay! I just have to tell my nurse I'm going on break!"

Morgan jumps over Regina's lap and scampers up the stairs to her room, no doubt putting her doctor toys away for the day.

Robin stands and walks over to Regina, leaning down to steal a kiss from her lips. "Hugs and kisses are very important for new mommies and new babies, you see," he explains.

Regina hums as she passes their daughter into his arms. "Yes, a very brilliant doctor told me the same thing." She leans up to capture his lips again, breaking apart only when Morgan comes bouncing back down the stairs, eager to start making dinner and putting the rest of her appointments on hold for the day.

Later, when all children have been tucked away for the night, Robin cracks open his book again only for it to be pulled from his hands and tossed toward the end of the bed. He looks up just as Regina straddles his lap, silk nightgown rucking sinfully up her thighs.

"I was reading that," he argues pointlessly.

"But you have an appointment, Dr. Locksley," Regina rasps, circling her hips over where he is quickly springing to life for her.

"Do I now?" Robin says, trailing his hands down her back to rest on her rear. "And what seems to be ailing you, Ms. Mills?"

"Oh, my throat is incredibly sore," Regina murmurs, trailing kisses down his neck. "And I think I know just how to make it better." She pushes on his shoulders until he falls onto his back, head on the pillows, a bit dazed. She hooks her fingers into his waistband and pulls his pants off, shimmying down his legs until she can grasp his erection in her hand.

"And, uh, what… fuck- what medicine do you need for your throat?" Robin manages as she pumps him slowly.

"I hear popsicles do just the trick," Regina teases, throwing him a saucy grin before curing every malady he could ever have with the wonder of her mouth.


	18. Can't Stand These Nights Alone

Robin's phone vibrates on his desk. He puts down the paperwork he had absently been staring at and reaches to punch in his unlock code. A notification floats at the top of the screen and he smiles when he sees it's a text from Regina.

 _Definitely working late?_

Robin glances around the sheriff's station, the other two desks left empty for the time being, and sighs.

 _Yeah,_ he types. _Emma and David still aren't back._

They haven't been back for hours, it feels like, and it's slightly annoying, because he'd been promised the night off, something he hardly ever gets, but Emma and David had been called out to the edge of town for something and they needed him to hold down the fort until they got back. _If_ they ever got back, that is. He'd been hoping it'd be a quick thing, something that wouldn't put much of a damper in his plans for the night. Plans that involved a bottle of wine, a naked Regina, and a very strong silencing spell.

But as it is, here he sits, plans very much dampened, and night very much ruined. His phone pings again.

 _Of course they aren't,_ is Regina's reply, accompanied by a red angry face.

Robin chuckles to himself. _If we're lucky, they'll be back in the next hour._

 _There are so many other things we could be doing in the next hour than waiting on the Charmings_

Robin smirks. _I'm not sure I know what you mean._

It takes a little longer for her to respond, but when she does, he gets a picture of the bottle of wine they had been saving for tonight. It's more than a little broken into. _I was going to get drunk for you,_ reads the accompanying text.

Robin groans despairingly. _Nooooo,_ he sends back. _I LOVE when you get drunk._

Regina gets surprisingly affectionate when she's intoxicated, clingy and touchy and handsy. Robin loves her in any state, but when she's tipsy and moony-eyed, he has to admit, that's one of his favorites.

He can practically hear her laugh as he reads, _I know, that's why I got started on the wine without you._

 _Are you going to get started on other things without me too?_ He's teasing her, can picture the blush that will inevitably color her cheeks when she reads his question, but if he has to spend the night without her, he figures this is a good enough consolation prize.

Her response doesn't come for a few minutes, but when his phone finally vibrates and he sees her reply, he nearly jumps out of his chair. He doesn't get a message, just a picture, but what an incredible picture it is. Regina has evidently gotten started on other things without him because she's sitting in bed, shirtless, black lace-covered breasts on full display for his perusal. He can't see her face, but he can see her mouth and that tantalizing bottom lip is caught maddeningly between her teeth.

Oh, she is definitely well on her way to drunk. There's no way she'd send him salacious pictures at work if she were sober. Robin curses Emma and David again as he closes the photo. His drop dead gorgeous girlfriend is at home, drunk and horny, and he can't be there to enjoy it because he has to sit at this damn desk.

 _Are you trying to seduce me over text message, your majesty?_

His phone buzzes ten seconds later. _Is it working?_

Robin chuckles. _I'm not sure. I might have to see a bit more first._ He puts his phone down and turns back to his paperwork, expecting her response to take a little longer. To his surprise, the next picture comes within seconds.

He groans when he opens it, thankful for the first time that he's alone.

The bra is gone, probably tossed somewhere on the floor, and Regina's hand is curved over the swell of one breast, nipples taut and inviting. She's leaning back on her elbow, head titled to the side so her dark locks cascade over her shoulder. That bottom lip is still caught maddeningly between her teeth and he wants nothing more than to bite it himself.

He gets another message. _Is that enough for you, Officer Locksley? Or do you need a little more?_

Robin swallows, shifting in his seat at the stirring in his pants. He can practically hear the breathiness of her voice, can see the seductive glint in her eyes. Fuck.

 _I wish I could touch you,_ he sends back. And gods, does he ever. He wants to run his hands all over her smooth skin, kiss every bare inch of her, suck and suck and suck on her nipples until she is begging him for something more. Grab handfuls of her ass as he pulls her to him, grind himself against where she is wet and warm and slick. Gods, he just wants to fucking _be_ there instead of here where he is developing an incredibly hard problem.

 _I'll just have to touch myself for you,_ she teases, the goddamn minx.

Robin swallows, suddenly bombarded with fantasies of Regina pleasuring herself, and he has to adjust himself in his seat, wishing his jeans were a few sizes bigger. _Hard to touch yourself with your pants still on,_ he encourages, hoping he gets another picture with her next reply.

He isn't disappointed.

She's taken off her jeans, gods above, and now she's splayed out on the bed for him, one hand extended in the air to take the photo, and the other tucked inside her lace panties, the only bit of clothing she still has on. Her lips are turned upward in a smirk, a devilish little glint to her eye as she grins at him.

 _How are your own pants fitting at the moment?_ she teases.

Robin groans, low and drawn out, his jeans growing tighter by the second. _Not very well,_ he sends back. _Fuck you're gorgeous._

A few seconds pass by, giving Robin a chance to adjust himself the best he can in his trousers, and then: _I'm also wet._

Robin's head tilts back, breath coming out in harsh exhales because fucking hell, this woman is going to kill him. _I bet you are. Tell me how wet._

 _Mm, so wet. You'd be able to fuck me easily_

 _Oh I plan on it. The second David and Emma get back I am sprinting out of here and fucking you until you can't speak._

A minute passes and then he gets another photo, the same view as before, but Regina's eyes are shut, her brow furrowed and lip caught tight between her teeth. From the angle of her hand in her panties, Robin can only imagine she's either rubbing her clit, pumping two fingers in and out of her center, or a combination of both.

 _Fuck I want you so bad,_ the accompanying text reads.

 _Do you need me to make you come?_ he asks, even though he probably won't have the chance for at least another half hour.

 _Yesssss,_ is her response, followed by: _Are David and Emma there?_

 _No still haven't heard from them. Will probably be another 30-45 mins until they're back_

 _Good._

Robin scrunches his eyebrows together, because he can't see how that much time between now and getting to fuck the daylights out of her is a good thing. He taps the reply button to answer, but then suddenly, a puff of purple smoke appears in front of his desk and when it dissipates, Regina- in all her naked glory- is standing before him, gaze dripping with lust.

Robin's jaw drops. Surely this can't be happening. The long hours on the job have him hallucinating, that must be the answer, because there's no way Regina would transport herself _naked_ to the sheriff's station, no way-

"Why the hell are you still dressed?" she demands, stalking around his desk and climbing onto his lap, attacking his mouth before he has the chance to answer. She grinds her soaked core against the bulge in his jeans, moaning against his lips.

Robin snaps himself out of his shock and runs his hands all over her skin, tangling his fingers in her hair to angle her head just right, allowing himself to take control of the kiss. She tastes like wine, bittersweet on his tongue, intoxicating to his senses. He dips his other hand into her panties, stroking her wetness, nearly combusting as her arousal drips down his fingers. In the back of his mind, he realizes it's incredibly risky to be doing this _here_ and now, when David and Emma could really return at any moment despite his estimation, but then Regina is practically ripping his shirt open and he finds he couldn't care less.

She scours her nails down his chest until she reaches his belt, tugs and pulls until its open and she can reach his fly. While she yanks his pants open, Robin sucks kisses up and down her neck, hissing when she finally frees his cock and ghosts her fingers along the length of it. She presses her lips back to his, separating only to command, "Fuck me, Robin."

With pleasure.

Robin taps the side of her hip, urging her up and when she rises just enough, Robin tugs her panties to the side and sinks into her with a curse and a groan.

"Fuck!" she shouts, rolling her hips until they're pressed skin to skin, his entire length surrounded by her wet heat.

"Gods, you feel good," Robin rasps, gripping her waist, urging her to move, and a second later, she's bouncing up and down on his cock, letting out the most incredible sounds with each pass of her hips over his.

"Oh shit- Robin," Regina gasps, head dropping back, her hair tumbling over her shoulder. "Love your- fuck- love your cock inside me."

"Love being inside you," Robin grunts, snapping his hips up to meet every downward thrust of hers, earning himself a half-scream for his efforts. "That's it, love, let me hear you. Let the whole town hear what I do to you."

Regina lets out a strangled cry at his words before upping her pace, driving herself closer to the edge that she had already been teetering precariously on. Robin drops his mouth to her breasts, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking hard until she moans, fisting her hand in his hair to hold him in place. Robin bites and licks until he's positive her nipple couldn't be harder and switches to the other, all the while going half-delirious at the pace she's set while riding his cock. He treats her lift nipple to the same attention as he had the right, reveling in her breathless shouts of his name and pleas for more.

"Oh fuck," Regina gasps, grinding her hips down on his, searching for friction against where she needs it the most.

Robin grabs a handful of her ass and guides her movements, setting her into a sort of swivel motion that has his breath rushing out of him all at once. If he wasn't close before, he certainly is now. He reaches up and clutches a fist in her hair, bringing her mouth back down to his and diving in to capture her tongue.

Regina groans desperately against him, separating their mouths to plead a frantic, "My clit- mm, fuck! Rob-ah!- Robin, please, touch my- oh god, touch my clit."

Robin trails his fingers slowly down her torso, making her stomach ripple and nipples pucker further, teasing her a bit until she practically growls and demands for him to make her come. No hardship on his part really, since it _is_ one of his favorite hobbies, making her come.

Robin pounds his hips up into her, making her shout as her jaw drops open and then he brings a hand to her clit, rubbing hard and fast, just what she likes, until he feels the telltale clench of her inner walls around him and she screams a throaty, "Fuck- Robin! Yes! Oh god!" And she falls apart around him.

Three more thrusts and he is right there with her, spilling every drop he has into her wet heat. His movements slow gradually, he's not quite ready to let their pleasure slip completely away, and then Regina drops a hand to his wrist and squeezes, and he stops.

They both breathe heavily, Regina's naked chest heaving into Robin's partially open, very much destroyed shirt.

"Well," Robin pants as he runs his hands up and down her back. "If I had known working the nightshift would get me _here,_ I would have been much more excited to take it."

Regina snickers into his hair and drops a kiss to his forehead. "Don't get used to it. I am well on my way to drunk, and you know if I was sober at all there'd be no way in hell I would have done this."

Robin threads his fingers into her hair and tugs gently, pulling her back just enough so he can look at her face, and sure enough, her eyes are a bit starry and her breath smells like Merlot. She's not drunk per se, but she's definitely tipsy, definitely feeling good. She's also a bit chilly, if the goosebumps on her skin are any indication.

Robin smiles at her dopey expression and leans in to press a soft kiss to her lips. "Then I'll just add this little exception to the list of the reasons why I love you," he says, revelling in the blush that comes to her cheeks as she ducks her head. Robin kisses her forehead and then runs his hands up and down her arms. "Why don't you magick up some clothes for yourself and keep me company until Emma and David get back?"

"Oh, do I get to be a sheriff's deputy for the night?" she teases, standing up from his lap and stretching in a rather delectable way.

"No, but you can be the deputy's deputy," Robin replies, tucking himself back into his jeans.

A puff of purple magic surrounds his torso- fixing his torn shirt- just as Regina is engulfed in the same smoke, her nakedness being covered by black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that further inspection reveals to be his. She looks downright cozy and a warmth flushes over Robin as she retakes her spot on her lap, leaning her shoulder into his chest.

"Alright, Officer Locksley, what's the hot case tonight?" she asks with a smirk, reaching for some of the paperwork on his desk.

"Well, I do believe she's currently sitting on my lap," Robin jokes, wrapping an arm tightly around her waist.

He gets a poorly concealed laugh and a thwack on the shoulder in response.

An hour later, when Emma and David finally make it back to the station, Regina is dozing with her head on his shoulder, leaving Robin to look over paperwork one-handed. Emma sends him home for the rest of the night and tells him to come in late the next morning, bless her soul, so Robin tosses the file he had been glancing at onto his desk and leaves it for tomorrow.

Regina is pretty much down for the count, thanks to both the wine and the late hour, so Robin hooks his free arm under her knees and resecures his hold around her back, standing with ease thanks to her tiny frame. He bids Emma and David a good night, ignoring their semi-suspicious looks as he carries Regina out to the car, and then lays her gently down on the backseat, pressing a kiss to her forehead before getting into the front seat and starting the car to head home to spend the rest of the night with his love in his arms.

He'll have to offer to take the late shift more often.


	19. Darkest Parts

Is it technically beastiality if the woman you're currently fucking is a snake?

Or, used to be a snake?

Or, never actually was a snake but was transformed into a snake by an evil wizard?

Eh, semantics.

It's all words, and there is no room for words in Robin's mind at the moment. No words other than _oh, fuck,_ and _yes,_ and _just like that._ There's no room for any coherent thought, not when he has the _bloody Evil Queen_ of all people half-naked and gasping in his arms.

They didn't really talk much after their initial conversation. Not when Robin realized that okay, there might be more to Storybrooke than he thinks, but there is definitely more to the Evil Queen. A lot more. More that he'd like to fuck right into the ground, thank you very much.

And so he is. Or rather, she is. Got him pressed right up against the trunk of a tree, biting her nails into his bare chest as she sucks and sucks all over his neck. Her hair is a mess, thanks to his hands, and her coat has long been discarded on the ground, leaving her in only her trousers and a corset that he's halfway through undoing.

Robin fists a hand in her hair, draws her away from his neck so he can crash their mouths together, tongue lashing against hers as he struggles to stay in control of whatever this is. He pulls at the last strings of her corset and then it's falling down, down to the ground at their feet, joining her coat and his last bit of restraint.

Robin rips his mouth away to look at her, and he didn't think he could be harder, but he was wrong. She's fucking sin on two legs, that's what she is. He groans at her perfection and she smirks, trails one slender finger over the swell of one breast, circles around her nipple like the minx she is.

"Staring won't get the job done, thief," she whispers, hand coasting down to rub against his straining trousers.

No, it fucking won't, and he has every intention of getting this job done so Robin grips her hips and spins them, crashing her back against the trunk. She hisses at the scratch of the bark on her skin, but then Robin takes a nipple in his mouth and those hisses devolve into breathy moans.

"Oh, fuck," she groans when he bites just so, swirling his tongue over her hardened peak. Her head thunks back against the tree and she closes her eyes, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Robin smirks to himself as he switches to her other breast. It's not everyday you get to have the upper hand on the Evil Queen, after all.

But queens only relinquish the upper hand for so long, apparently, because no sooner has the smirk left Robin's face than she's opening her eyes and pulling at the fastenings of his breeches, yanking them open and pushing them down his legs. He toes out of his boots and kicks his pants the rest of the way off, straightening himself only to nearly double over when the queen takes him in hand.

"Fuck!" he groans at the _swish, swish_ of her fist pumping up and down his cock.

"Mm, I'm glad to see you're Robin's twin in every place that matters," she purrs lowly with a cat-like grin.

He twitches in her hand, but her comment has his mind shooting back to Regina, the woman who brought him here, and he doesn't want to think about her. Doesn't want to think about how he let her down today, and is probably, most definitely letting her down again right now.

So he ignores her and evens the playing field, reaches for the ties on her trousers and yanks them apart, rucks the skin-tight leather down to her knees. He takes a second, just a moment, to appreciate the rather stunning sight of the Evil Queen almost completely bare and disheveled, open and wanting. Fuck, he's a lucky bastard.

"Like the view?" she teases, swiping her thumb over the head of his cock.

Robin clenches his jaw. "I think I like what I feel better," he growls, sliding his hand between her thighs, his fingers slipping against her wetness. He wastes no time in plunging one, two fingers inside her, giving a few rough thrusts that have her jaw dropping open and her grip around his length faltering.

"Oh!" she gasps as he continues to pump, palm slapping her clit with every upward thrust of his hand. He adds another finger and a strangled noise gets caught in her throat, her nails biting into his bicep. "Fuck- oh, yes! Just- right th- ungh, like that!" she cries, as her hips buck against his hand.

She fucking gorgeous like this, putty in his palm, and the sight of her so open has a weird surge of emotion flooding his chest, his thoughts unwittingly flying back to Regina. For a split second, he wishes it were her that was moaning at his touch, that she was the one begging him to go harder, but that would be stupid. Regina doesn't want _him._ She wants Robin, her Robin. An honorable man, not some scummy street rat. Why can't he just focus on the woman in front of him, and not on the woman who he should be getting far away from?

The queen squeezes tighter at his bicep and Robin doubles his efforts, thrusting his fingers at a punishing pace, smacking her clit almost relentlessly. She throws a hand into his hair and yanks him to her, seizing his mouth as she buckles and comes, her shouts muffled against his lips.

She doesn't kiss like Regina, he realizes as her heavy breathing starts to calm. Regina is sweet and gentle and slow. The queen is fire and bite and fierce. Robin wonders what it would be like to mix both sides of the coin. To have the passion of the queen with the tenderness of Regina. It must be quite an intoxicating combination.

"Regina must be stupider than I thought," the queen sighs with quirk of her eyebrow. "You're so much better than the other Robin. Who needs honor when you can have…" She ghosts her fingers over his cock again. "Something much _darker."_

Is that why his heart is suddenly warm? His darkness is attracted to hers? But he's not that dark, is he? Morally questionable, sure. But not _evil._ He might not be the honorable man Regina wants, but he's not the wicked man the queen wants either. Can't he be both? Can't he _have_ both? He wants both.

His fingers are still inside her, he realizes, and her hand has grown impatient on his cock, pumping him up and down with more purpose.

"What are you waiting for, thief? Don't you want to be able to say you fucked a queen?" she taunts on a harsher pull.

He growls at her touch, can't help it, and fuck it all, he might want both Reginas, but he has this one at the moment and he's not about to let her walk away without showing her what he's made of. So Robin leans in and bites her bottom lip, tugging it back and back until she winces. He pulls his hand out from her wetness and grabs her hips, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock, sliding back and forth until its covered in her arousal.

"I'm growing old waiting, thief," the queen snaps, digging her nails into his shoulder. "Just- Robin!"

She shouts his name as he plunges inside her to the hilt in one swift move, her stomach contracting as her breath rushes out of her all at once. It's the first time she's referred to him by his name, he realizes as he thrusts roughly, grabbing a handful of her ass as an anchor. It does something to him, his name on her lips, has that strange yearning for Regina swirling up inside him, a want for this to be more than just a quick fuck in the forest. And since when did he start _feeling_ things? Since her, apparently.

"Fuck," he groans on a particularly deep thrust, his confuddled mind still at the mercy of her warm, wet center. He squeezes her ass harder and then smacks it, a quick hit with his palm that has the queen practically mewling for him.

"Do that again," she commands in between moans, and how is it that she can sound so authoritative even though she's the one being spanked?

He smacks her ass again, sharper this time and at her pleasured shout, he does it again, dropping both hands to grip her rear and pound harder into her.

"Yes! Right- just there!" she gasps, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer, her breasts crushing against his chest. "Robin! Fuck- oh!" Her head falls into the crook of his neck, her teeth biting at his skin as her cries grow sharper. "Don't stop!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he pants, and he doesn't know what he did, but she lets out a strangled noise, nails raking down his back as her hips buck and grind against him. She's clenching tighter and tighter around him, nearly there, and all it takes are three hard rubs to her clit, Robin's fingers slipping against her, to have her coming and coming around him.

"Oh, fuck! Robin! I- love- oh! You!" she screams breathlessly, hips moving erratically as her orgasm radiates through her.

Her words nearly make him freeze, but he's just on the cusp and so he can't really stop his own release from crashing down around him, leaving him to spill into her with a grunt.

She doesn't love him. She can't. She loves the other Robin, the one Regina loves too. They don't want him. Why would they? He's nothing compared to this mythic hero they keep talking about. But can't he be what they need? If they give him a chance, he can be good for them, can't he? He _wants_ to be, he realizes suddenly. He _wants_ to be the Robin they love, not some knock-off replacement. Why was he cursed to be a second choice?

Maybe Regina will give him a second chance. Maybe the queen will. Gods, he hopes so. This weird feeling in his chest can't be for nothing, can it?

The queen's breathing has slowed, her grip around his shoulders loosening. She kisses the side of his neck before apparently thinking twice and pulling back, a bit of a sheepish look in her eye. She clears her throat. "Well. At least I know you're good for one thing."

She's trying to cover it up, whatever feeling is swirling in the dark depths of her eyes. She has beautiful eyes, Robin thinks not for the first time. And beautiful lips. And beautiful hands. And a beautiful body. And a beautiful heart, split halves regardless.

That warm feeling flares up again, that yearning for both sides of her, that longing to be what she needs. She already said she loves him, even if it wasn't entirely for him, right? So then maybe… maybe…

The queen looks away from his searching gaze, straightening her shoulders. "Everything said in the throes of passion are just that," she begins to dismiss, apparently reading his mind. "Heat of the moment, and-"

Robin ignores her, the beating of his heart too consuming to push aside any longer. He brushes loose strands of hair out of her face, skates his fingers along her jaw to hook under her chin, and presses his lips softly to hers.

The burst of light startles them both, but any questions get stuck in Robin's throat as a tidal wave of energy suddenly crashes down on top of him. His vision blurs, his ears ring, his mind races as he stumbles back and away from her, his entire body feeling as if it's on fire. He falls to his hands and knees, knocked over by a whirlwind of memories shooting through his brain. Somewhere, the queen is gasping and maybe she's stumbling too, maybe she feels on fire too, but Robin can't focus on her because all he can see is his life flashing before his eyes. His father, his brothers, his mother, his men, his wife, his son, his daughter, his soulmate. His life. Him.

He's there then, completely, and totally, his soul finally bubbling up and coming forth from somewhere deep inside, someplace that had been hidden by darkness and found by hope. Found by her.

Robin blinks, and then blinks again, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He clenches his hands in the dirt, reveling in the feel of wet, cool earth on his skin. He shakes his head back and forth, hair falling across his forehead. He's clothed again, he realizes looking down at himself. He's wearing the same thing he wore when he died, when Hades struck him while aiming for Regina.

Regina.

Robin snaps his head up so quickly he nearly gives himself whiplash, eyes frantic as he looks for her, but he needn't look long.

She's right there, leaning against the tree, chest rising and falling with labored breaths. Her hair is shorter, her dress is red, and she is whole. He knows it. He feels it. Two halves stitched together again.

"Regina," Robin breathes, staring up at her.

She swallows as she looks back at him. "Robin?" she whispers, tentative, afraid, scared to hope.

She doesn't need to hope anymore. He scrambles to his feet, nearly tripping over himself in his hurry, and it's one, two steps before she's in his arms, clinging to him as he holds on for dear life. He says her name over and over again, threads his fingers through her hair, down her back, over her arms, every bit of her he can reach because she is standing before him, real and whole, and he'll be damned if she is ever anything but just that.

"Is it you?" she cries into his shoulder. "Is it really you?"

"It's me, my love," he promises. "It's me. I'm here." He pulls back just enough to press kisses all over her face, stopping at her lips and pouring his entire heart into feeling the wonder of her mouth on his again.

She runs her hands all over him, reassuring herself that he is, in fact, real and here before her.

"But is it you?" he asks. "Is it all of you? Are you whole again?"

She nods, wrapping her arms around his neck as if she'll never let go. He never wants her to. "I am now," she breathes, kissing him with all she has and letting him know that although True Love might be able to break curses, soulmates can cross realms and conquer death, and that when the darkest parts of a soul can learn to love, nothing can stop two hearts that are designed to beat as one.


	20. A Thief

"He's the best thief in town."

She hears Jasmine's praises the next day, as she boasts to Granny of some heist Aladdin managed to pull off, a feat she doesn't elaborate much on, but is proud of all the same.

No one pays any mind to her declaration. They merely accept it and move on with the conversation, as if nothing is amiss. But it makes Regina stop. She freezes for a split second, coffee mug halfway to her lips.

Thief.

Jasmine can say that Aladdin is the best thief in town because she doesn't know. She doesn't know about a thief who wasn't just the best in town, but the best in all the realms.

A thief who stole from Rumplestiltskin and Maleficent and the Wicked Witch and lived to tell every tale.

A thief who stole muffins off Granny's platters in the dining hall to split with his son.

A thief who stole books off her library shelves just so he would have an excuse to see her when he gave them back.

A thief who stole her horse from the stables once and who was completely unphased by her threats of gouging out his eyeballs if he ever did it again.

A thief who stole her away from a ball to the peace of her gardens because he knew she was hurting and missing her son.

A thief who stole her breath away as he kissed her senseless in the forest, in a hallway, in a vault.

A thief who stole her dreams as she tossed and turned and missed him terribly for weeks on endless weeks.

A thief who stole smiles and touches and tears with his care and love and goodness.

A thief who stole death from her, foolishly, because he thought her life was worth more than his own.

A thief who did not steal her heart because she gave it to him freely, over and over and over again, and he protected it as if it were the most valuable of all his stolen treasures because, she supposes, to him, it was.

So Jasmine can say Aladdin is the best thief in town, because she doesn't know. But she doesn't have to know, because Regina does. She brings her mug to her lips and takes a sip, warmed by the coffee and by the memories of a thief. Her thief- the best in all the realms.


	21. Would You Light My Candle?

**A short little _RENT_ AU**

* * *

Robin puts his guitar down at the knock on the door. He stumbles over a box in the dark, cursing Jeff for turning off their electricity (their rent isn't _that_ late) and Killian for being a forgetful ass. "What'd you forget?" he sighs, opening the door.

"Got a light?"

The female voice makes his head snap up. The girl standing before him is definitely not Killian. She's petite and beautiful, dark hair shining in the moonlight. She smirks up at him through her eyelashes. He doesn't know her name but he's seen her in the apartment building before. "I know you," Robin states, looking her up and down. "You're… shivering," he realizes when her knees quake violently.

The girl shrugs. "It's nothing. They turned off my heat and I'm just a little weak on my feet." She holds up her hands. "Would you light my candle?"

Robin looks from the candle to her arms. She's thin, all skin and bones and no muscle anywhere. There's more than just the chill in the air at work here. Still, she's captivating and Robin's eyes draw back up to her hair, slightly mesmerized.

"What are you staring at?" she asks after a long moment passes.

Robin blinks. "Uh, nothing. Your hair in the moonlight," he answers with a grin. He steps aside and gestures for her to come in. "You look familiar," he says, leading her into the main living space. She stumbles slightly, but whether it's from the same box he tripped over or her trembling knees, he can't be sure. He reaches out an arm to steady her. "Gonna make it?" Robin asks.

The girl straightens and shrugs again. "Just haven't eaten much today. At least the room stopped spinning," she attempts to joke with a smile, but Robin knows better. He's seen this before. An empty stomach isn't the cause of her tremors. He looks her up and down again- dark circles under her eyes, sweat beading by her temple, trembling hands. Oh yes, he's seen this before.

"What?" the girl asks, catching him staring again.

"Nothing," Robin dismisses, reaching into a kitchen drawer for a pack of matches. He strikes one and lowers it to her candle, waiting for the wick to catch. "Your smile reminded me of-"

"I always remind people of someone," the girl interrupts, smile still sitting pretty on her face. "Who is she?"

"She died," Robin replies, waving out the match. "Her name was Marian."

The girl nods and turns toward the door only to turn right back around again. "It's out again," she states, holding out her candle. "Sorry about your friend. Would you light my candle?" She crosses the distance between them as Robin lights another match, leaving not much room between their torsos aside from the space created by the candle.

 _Bold and audacious,_ Robin thinks cheekily, touching the match to the wick again. Her breath washes over his fingers as he holds the candle steady. His eyes flick up to meet hers and now the moonlight has moved to her eyes, matching her hair. She has beautiful eyes, despite the circles beneath them. If the moon stayed just like that, he could look at her eyes all night-

"Ow!" she yelps suddenly, yanking her hand away from the candle. "Oh, the wax. It's dripping." She smiles coyly and looks up at him through her lashes. "I like it between my-"

"Fingers," Robin interrupts, clearing his throat. "I figured." She smirks and he takes a step back, waving out the match. "Um, well, goodnight," he stammers, turning to throw the empty pack of matches away. She's like Marian. He can't get involved with someone like Marian. Not again.

The girl chuckles behind him and he hears her take a few steps toward the door, only to stop and walk back into his apartment again.

"It blew out again?" Robin guesses.

"No, I think I dropped my stash," the girl answers, bending down to look under the table.

And there's the confirmation for his suspicions. Robin glances around the floor, hoping to find this girl's drugs before she does. "I know I've seen you out and about before," he states, trying to distract her as his eyes rake the floor.

The girl ignores him and sets her candle down on the counter. "I had it when I walked in the door. It was pure," she mutters, pulling cushions off the couch in her search. "Is it on the floor?" She drops to her hands and knees and Robin has a whole new problem on his hands. He swallows. That ass…

"They say I have the best ass below 14th Street," the girl comments as if she can read his mind. She looks at him over her shoulder and wiggles her hips back and forth. "Is it true?"

Robin blinks. "What?"

"You're staring again," the girl explains, smiling as she turns back to her search on the floor.

"Oh, no, I mean you do have a nice-" Robin stammers, stopping when she tosses a knowing smirk his way. "I mean, you look familiar."

"Like your dead girlfriend," the girl deadpans.

"Only when you smile," Robin replies just as his eye catches a tiny plastic bag on the floor. He bends down and grabs it just as the girl stands up.

"What's that?" she asks, looking at his hand.

"Candy bar wrapper," Robin dismisses, tucking the bag into his back pocket. "But I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else."

"Do you go to the Cat Scratch Club?" the girl asks, pulling open the drawer that held the matches. "That's where I work. I dance."

"Oh yeah!" Robin answers, suddenly bombarded with provocative images of the girl standing before him. "They used to tie you up-"

She levels him with a glare. "It's a living."

"I didn't recognize you without the handcuffs," Robin teases, garnering a smile and an eye roll.

The girl shoves the drawer closed and starts rifling through the contents of the end table next to the couch.

"Why don't you forget that stuff?" Robin suggests. "You look like you're 16."

"I'm 19," the girl corrects. "But I'm old for my age." She abandons the table and saunters over to him, trailing a hand up and down his arm, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. "I was just born to be bad."

Robin swallows, her fingers igniting sparks on his skin. "I used to _be bad_ too," he murmurs. "I used to shiver like that."

The girl drops her hand and takes a step back, defensive. "I have no heat, I told you."

"I used to sweat."

"I have a cold."

"Uh huh. I used to be a junkie too," Robin states, looking her dead in the eyes.

The girl stares at him for a second and then looks away, brushing past him to pick up her forgotten candle on the counter. The flame has since gone out. "Would you light my candle?" she asks, turning until they're pressed hip to hip.

Robin brings a hand up to steady her trembling fingers around the candle. "That was my last match," he replies. "Our eyes will adjust, though. Thank god for the moon." His gaze flickers back up to her hair. Thank god for the moon, indeed. "Your hands are cold."

"So are yours," the girl murmurs, leaning in closer until her mouth is by his ear. "They're big. Like my father's."

Robin resists the urge to shiver himself, her breath washing warm against his cheek, her hand sliding around his waist. Don't get involved, don't get involved.

"Do you want to dance?" the girl whispers into his ear, voice going sultry and tempting.

"With you?" Robin breathes, suddenly aware of every inch of her body pressed against his.

"With my father."

The tension of the moment breaks and Robin chuckles, pulling back enough so he can see her face clearly. "I'm Robin," he introduces.

The girl smiles, a beautiful sight, and leans in closer, her mouth hovering just in front of his, her breath washing over his lips. "They call me Regina." And just like that, she steps back, triumphantly holding up the tiny bag of drugs so cleverly extracted from Robin's back pocket.

He blinks, a bucket of cold water pouring over him, and she giggles. "Thanks for lighting my candle," she flirts, peeking up through her eyelashes again, and just like that, she's gone, candle and drugs going with her.

Robin stares after her for a moment before running a hand down his face. He doesn't follow her, but maybe another day he'll get himself involved. After she's washed the moonlight out of her hair.


	22. A New Story

It's weird, feeling things other than hatred and anger and bitterness. She feels strangely… light. It's like breathing is easier, and smiling is too, like her heart is finally free to beat in a strong, steady rhythm and the shackles around it have finally been broken.

So this is what love and joy and peace feel like.

Who would have thought?

Who would have thought that an evil queen could get a second chance, a fresh start? And who would have thought it would be in the very place where she ran from happiness so many years ago?

She almost can't believe it. She almost doesn't want to open her eyes because then it might not be real.

She also doesn't want to open her eyes because that would imply she wants to stop kissing Robin and she definitely doesn't want to do that.

He tastes like ale and smells like fresh air, all her senses consumed as he presses her closer against the wall of the tavern, the crates and barrels in the alley providing them with some bit of privacy. His fingers are woven into her braid, his other hand steady as he fists her shirt beneath her riding coat (she had changed soon after sitting down, a poof of magic going a long way to make herself blend in with the tavern crowd. Don't need anyone running off shouting they've seen the Evil Queen.).

Regina slides her hands around his back, pressing him closer, pinning herself tighter against the wall. She wants nothing but him, nothing but the feel of his hands on her skin, his lips on hers. She felt too many dark things for too long. All she wants now is light, all she wants now is love. All she wants now is him.

Robin drops kisses along her jaw and down her neck, paying special attention to her pulse point when she gasps at his touch.

"Robin," she sighs, sliding a hand into his hair to hold his head in place.

He nips and sucks for a minute more and then pulls back, blue eyes dark in the moonlight as he searches her face, a grin coming to his kiss-swollen lips. "Is this how the story started?" he murmurs. "Yours and the other Robin's?"

She shakes her head, swiping her tongue over her bottom lip. "No. It could have been, but it wasn't," she answers, scratching the back of his head lightly. "I ran away before I had the chance to find him."

Robin lowers his gaze. "Do you wish you hadn't run?"

He sounds afraid of her answer, as if he doesn't want to hear her say yes, as if she's going to say yes, as if she'll wish she had found the other Robin when she first had the chance, as if she'll say she'd rather have him instead of the man standing before her.

Regina tugs on his hair, urging him to look at her. When their eyes meet, she smiles softly and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. "No, I'm glad I ran," she answers, heart fluttering at the sudden hope that bursts in his eyes. She kisses him again, trailing fingers along his jaw, splaying against his neck. "That's not how the old story started," she whispers. "But it's how this one _starts._ A new story- yours and mine."

Robin smiles slowly, dimples deepening under her touch. "And this new story… does it have a happy ending?"

Regina leans into his hand as he rubs a thumb over the apple of her cheek, heart pounding with hope and love and peace, pulse quickening with the soul-searching gaze of his eyes, veins igniting with the spark of his presence, and somehow, she just knows.

"Yeah," she murmurs, closing the distance between their mouths. "I really think it does."


	23. The Quarter Rule

**Written for the OQ Prompt Party! Prompt: Midnight snack.**

* * *

It's just after one in the morning when she gets the call. It takes her a few moments to register that her phone is ringing, but after the third chirp, Regina realizes just what has disturbed her slumber. She rolls ungracefully out of Robin's hold until she can reach the nightstand and the offending piece of technology sitting atop it. She blinks a few times before she can look directly at the bright screen and then confusion settles over her when she sees the identity of the late-night caller.

"Hello?" she mutters, rubbing a hand over her eyes.

"Mom?" comes the hesitant reply.

"Morgan, sweetheart, what's the matter? It's one in the morning," Regina yawns, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

"Can… can you come get me?" Morgan asks, voice just above a whisper.

Regina rolls onto her back. "Is everything alright?" This doesn't sound like the voice of a girl who should be enjoying a sleepover with her friends.

"I, uh, I don't feel good," Morgan answers, the volume of her voice going in and out as if she looked away from the phone for a moment.

"Are you throwing up?"

"No, I… I just don't feel good."

Suspicion settles in Regina's stomach. Something is very off. "Morgan, what's the matter?" she asks tentatively.

"I… I need a quarter."

The suspicion in Regina's stomach immediately replaces itself with panic. "Are you safe? Are you hurt?" she demands, sitting up straight.

"I'm fine… I just want to go home."

Regina glances over as Robin stirs beside her. "Okay, sit tight. I'll be there as soon I can." She tosses her phone toward the end of the bed and pushes off the covers, bare feet meeting carpet as she stands. She fumbles through a basket of laundry that still needs to be put away and tugs on jeans and a sweatshirt that she later realizes is Robin's. He wakes as she's putting on shoes, one eye open as he blinks at her.

"W'tre y'dng?" he mumbles, rolling onto his back.

"I'm going to pick up Morgan," she explains as she stands, feeling around for her phone on the end of the bed.

"Is she alright?" Robin yawns, rubbing his hands down his face.

"She doesn't feel well," Regina lies, knowing he's not conscious enough to process the real reasons behind their daughter's midnight call.

"Do you want me to get her?" he offers through a big yawn.

"No, I've got her, you sleep. I'll be back," she promises, leaning across the bed to kiss his cheek. He mumbles something incoherent and rolls back over, more on her side of the bed than his.

She moves quickly through the house, grabbing her keys and purse from the front hall, being careful not to wake Roland. She pulls out of the driveway probably a little too quickly, but doesn't stop to worry about any shrubbery she might have knicked. Her daughter needs a quarter.

* * *

She pulls up to the address Morgan had scribbled onto a sticky note earlier that evening and doesn't even have time to pull out her phone before the front door's opening and Morgan's walking out. She has her sleeping bag under one arm and her duffle slung over the other, her hair looking not at all like it had come anywhere near a pillow.

She throws her stuff in the backseat before getting in the front, avoiding Regina's watchful gaze as she closes the door and buckles her seatbelt. Morgan stares at her hands in her lap and despite the darkness, Regina can see tears brimming in her eyes.

"Morgan-"

"Quarter Rule," her daughter interrupts, voice shaky and broken.

Regina licks her lips, fighting against every urge she has to demand Morgan tell her what happened. "A stipulation of the Quarter Rule is that I get to ask if you're okay. Morgan, you need to tell me if someone hurt you."

Her daughter shakes her head, bottom lip trembling fiercely. She sniffs and turns to look out the window. "No," she whispers, resting her head on the glass. "No one hurt me."

"Sweetheart-"

"Just drive," Morgan pleads, closing her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Please."

* * *

Regina started the Quarter Rule with Henry. She told him if he was ever in a bad situation that he couldn't get out of, he was to call her and say he needed a quarter. She'd come pick him up wherever he was and take him home, no questions asked. She wouldn't pry, wouldn't snoop. Would make sure he was okay, of course, but nothing beyond that. Later, if he wanted to tell her what happened, he would, and oftentimes, he did. Henry only invoked the Quarter Rule on a handful of occasions and Roland only once. This is the first time Morgan has ever used it.

The ride home is quiet save for an occasional sniffle from the passenger seat. Regina chances a glance over to Morgan every couple of seconds, trying to gauge just what might be troubling her daughter so deeply. She doesn't know Rachel Brady or her parents, but Morgan had insisted they were good people and a trustworthy family and several of her other friends were sleeping over, so couldn't she please, Mom?

At some point, Morgan's phone buzzes and she glances at the screen before tossing it unkindly onto the backseat. Regina bites her tongue as they pull into the driveway and keeps biting it until they step through the front door. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a shower and I'll make some tea? It'll help calm you down," she offers, tossing her keys on the front table.

Morgan nods wordlessly and heads up the stairs, forlorn expression consuming her face.

Regina watches her go and sighs. Sometimes, the Quarter Rule really pushes her limits. She sets the kettle to boil and pulls out her phone, pulling up a message to send to one blonde sheriff who should be working the graveyard shift tonight.

 _What do you know about the Brady family?_

She opens the cupboard to grab the box of tea bags and by the time she pulls two out, a response is waiting for her.

 _Helen and Frank Brady?_

Regina thinks hard for a minute to see if she can remember the names Morgan told her and yes, those sound about right.

 _The same_

 _Money out the ears. Always asking for permits to cross the townline to go to some black tie function or other_

 _Do you know them?_

 _Not really. I talk to them when they come in to get permits but nothing beyond that_

 _Do they seem responsible?,_ Regina asks, kicking herself all the while because she should have asked these questions _before_ Morgan went to stay the night. And normally, she would have, but Morgan had been adamant that it'd be fine and Roland had made a passing comment that Rachel's older brother had graduated with him and he was a nice guy and Regina had been doing… _something_ when Morgan asked, she was sure of it. She just couldn't remember what it was, but it had been important at the time and Morgan kept asking and she needed to focus and so yes, you may, but remember we have Neal's soccer game Saturday morning so you can't stay up too late.

Regina presses the heels of her hands to her eyes, guilt bubbling up in her stomach. She shouldn't have said yes. She should have called Rachel's parents and talked to them and felt them out before letting her baby girl stay at their house. Maybe this all could have been avoided. Her phone pings again.

 _In what way?_

Regina sighs and decides to get straight to the point. Emma most likely will ask about it later anyway.

 _Should I have let Morgan sleepover at their house tonight?_

 _I don't know them well enough to know that but they do seem to be away a lot_

Regina frowns and chews on her bottom lip. She hears the tap switch off upstairs and knows her investigating will be cut short soon by Morgan's reappearance. She's about to just put her phone away and give it up now, but then Emma sends another text.

 _I think they're away this weekend for some event in Bangor. Why are you up this late?_

The kettle whistles then and Regina abandons her phone in favor of pouring hot water into two tea cups, dropping a bag into each. She sets the kettle down on a cool burner on the stove and picks her phone back up just as she hears Morgan's feet on the stairs.

 _Quarter rule,_ is all she sends, knowing Emma will understand what she means. The two of them had worked out the rule together when Henry was a teenager just in case one of them was unavailable when he needed to use it. She tucks her phone into her back pocket just as Morgan comes into the kitchen, hair thrown up in a bun.

Morgan sits silently at the counter, her legs just long enough for her toes to brush the floor. In addition to the color of her hair and dimples, Morgan most definitely inherited her height from her father. Robin's not short, exactly, but he's not particularly tall, either. Morgan had practically thrown a party when she learned she reached 5'1", something Regina can relate to. Being the queen can be difficult when you can't exactly tower over those you wish to intimidate.

Regina wordlessly slides a cup across the counter before taking her own in hand. She watches Morgan's face as she sips on her tea, searching for any lingering tears or trembling bottom lips. Misery is the only thing she finds.

"Did your shower help?" she asks after a few quiet minutes.

Morgan nods and tucks an imaginary piece of hair behind her ear. Regina had suspected it would- when Morgan was younger, a long bubble bath would often be the only thing that could soothe her after a bad day. The shower has become a comparable substitute as she's gotten older.

Regina takes another sip of tea before setting her cup down carefully on the counter. How to go about this? She doesn't want to violate the conditions of the Quarter Rule, but Morgan is clearly, obviously upset. Maybe she should get Robin. Morgan's always been a daddy's girl. She might open up to him sooner than-

"Rachel's parents weren't home," Morgan says into her teacup, snapping Regina out of her musings.

"I thought you said they would be," she replies neutrally, keeping all accusation out of her tone.

Morgan shakes her head. "I thought they would be. I mean, I just kind of assumed, I guess," she admits, batting her cup between her hands. "Who leaves a fourteen-year-old home alone for a whole weekend? You barely leave me home alone for an afternoon."

"Everyone's parents are different, I suppose."

"I… I wish they had been home," Morgan murmurs. "Maybe things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand then."

"You don't have to tell me," Regina reminds her, despite wanting nothing more than to hear what happened. Morgan's safe and out of trouble and home- those are the only goals of the Quarter Rule. Asking for explanations would be contradictory and Regina doesn't want to break her daughter's trust. If she goes against the Quarter Rule this time, Morgan might hesitate to use it in the future and that is the last thing Regina wants.

Morgan shakes her head again. "It started out fine," she continues as if Regina hadn't spoken. "But then Rachel's boyfriend Wes came over and he's… older. Like, a lot older."

Regina sips her tea. "How old?"

"Seventeen," Morgan answers, drumming her fingers against the side of her cup. "He said he knows Roland."

Regina raises and lowers her eyebrows. "That's… a lot older."

Morgan nods and takes a drink. "He came over with some of his friends and they… brought alcohol." She glances up at her mother before looking back down. "Rachel drank… I don't even know how much."

Regina sips, swallows, and sets her cup down. Aside from the older boyfriend thing, this seems like the time Roland invoked the Quarter Rule. Too much alcohol, too many people, and no adults. Typical teenage conundrum. "Did you get the impression Rachel drinks on a regular basis?" she asks, predicting the answer she receives.

Morgan nods. "Yeah, she… was very familiar with all the alcohol they brought. She was more drunk than anyone."

"And the rest of your friends?"

"They were drinking, too. Everyone was, pretty much."

Regina swallows and prepares herself for the next question she has to ask. She's not an idiot, she knows teenagers drink when they're not supposed to and her own children have been no exception to that. She's found both Henry and Roland throwing up at 3 in the morning after a night of illegal drinking, but they were both seniors in high school at that point. Morgan's barely finished middle school.

"And did you have anything to drink?" Regina asks, careful to keep accusation out of her tone. The Quarter Rule is technically still in effect, so she's not expecting an answer, but she can't help but ask.

"I… thought about it," Morgan replies tentatively. She swirls a finger around the top of her cup. "But then I remembered that one time Roland came home drunk and Dad kicked his butt. I didn't think it was worth it."

Regina nods in agreement. "Well, I must say that was a good decision on your part. I know we've talked about drinking before, but I guess I should remind you-"

"That wasn't the reason why I called," Morgan interrupts quietly, eyes trained on her tea.

Regina raises an eyebrow. "It wasn't?"

Morgan shakes her head. She pushes her tea away. "No, it wasn't."

Regina forgets to remind her she doesn't have to tell. What could be worse than drinking at this age? Drugs? Not sex… they're too young for that… right? "You can tell me anything, sweetheart," Regina settles on, swallowing to keep her nerve.

Morgan rubs her eyes with a fist and takes a deep breath. "Rachel couldn't even stand by herself after everything she had to drink. She was out of her mind, and after awhile, Wes said he wanted to take her upstairs." Morgan pauses and swallows. "Her bedroom is upstairs."

Regina bites her tongue so hard it goes numb. A familiar, old hollowness creeps into her bones. She knows where this is going. So much for keeping her nerve.

"Rachel was going to go with him, but I… I told her not to," Morgan continues.

Regina blinks. "You did?"

Morgan nods. "She was in no state to make a decision like that. And you've always said my body is mine and I am the only one who gets to decide what happens to it."

"That's… that's right," Regina whispers absentmindedly. Hazy memories of her first marriage flash through her mind, horrible and damaging, but dulled with time and frequent exposure to love and caring. For exactly that reason, Morgan's bodily autonomy has been a lesson Regina's instilled in her since she could talk. This world is different and the situations are too, but she had promised herself that her daughter would not be subjected to the same abuse- in whatever form or variation- she had endured. All of the decisions about Morgan's body would be Morgan's and Morgan's alone to make.

"It didn't do much good," Morgan goes on with a shake of her head. "Rachel told me to mind my own business and she went upstairs with Wes anyway. Then Wes's friends started talking about all the things they thought the two of them were doing, and I just felt so uncomfortable that I called you."

Regina nods and licks her lips. "You did the right thing."

"I mean, I wasn't sure if you'd be mad or not-"

"I wasn't talking about calling me, sweetheart," Regina interrupts. "I meant you did the right thing in speaking up for Rachel, even if she didn't want to hear it. No one else was brave enough to do that."

"It didn't do anything, though. She still went with him."

"Yes, and it's a messy situation, but you did what you could. I'm very proud of you for that," Regina assures her, reaching out to grasp her hand.

Morgan nods sullenly, misery still plain on her face. "I feel like I didn't do enough, though."

"Well, we can't change what happened, but I think there might still be something we can do," Regina replies, reaching into her pocket for her phone. "Your Aunt Emma could probably use something to do tonight."

Morgan sits up straighter. "You're calling Aunt Emma on them?"

"For now," Regina answers, pressing her phone to her ear. "Tomorrow, though, I'm calling Rachel's parents. They have a right to know what's going on in their house and what's happening with their daughter."

Morgan makes a sound of displeasure. "Do you have to? I don't want them to know I told."

"I think Rachel's safety is more important than you getting embarrassed, Morgan," Regina replies sternly, not having any time for teenage mortification. If it had been Morgan in Rachel's place, Regina would want to know immediately what happened to her daughter. She can only imagine the Bradys feel the same.

Emma answers on the third ring. "Hey, is everything okay?" she asks immediately.

"We've had a long night," Regina answers. "But I just thought I'd call in an anonymous tip."

"A tip, huh? What's up?"

Regina relays the story, giving Emma the address for the Bradys' house, and makes the blonde promise she won't say who busted the party. She may value safety over popularity, but she still has some sense to protect her daughter's reputation.

When she hangs up, Morgan's drawing invisible patterns on the countertop with her finger. She glances up at her mother, before dropping her gaze back to the counter. "Mom, can I ask you something?" she murmurs, unsure.

"Of course, sweetheart. Anything."

"When… when did you first have sex?"

Regina swallows. She probably should have seen this question coming, but she still takes a moment to suck in a breath, gathering her courage. "Why would you like to know?" she asks, stalling to give herself an extra minute.

Morgan shrugs and drops her hands to her lap. "Rachel isn't the only one of my friends who's… active."

Regina screams internally, gritting her teeth at the thought of such young kids engaging in sexual activities. "She's not?"

Morgan shakes her head. "It seems like someone is losing a different kind of virginity every other day. Everyone's doing it… except me."

 _Damn right you're not doing it,_ Regina snaps to herself. Just the thought of some smelly, pimple-faced, hormonal teenage boy trying to paw at her daughter makes her stomach churn. "Well, honey, we've talked about sex, remember? It's not something you do just because you think you should. It's a lot more than that. It's about love and trust and respect-"

Morgan starts to roll her eyes and then stops herself. "I know, Mom. I do. But when you're telling me one thing and all my friends are doing another, it's hard to know the truth."

Regina takes a deep breath. She reaches across the counter and takes Morgan's hand in her own, squeezing gently. "You want to know the truth, sweetheart?"

Morgan nods.

Regina inhales, heartbeat growing slightly erratic. "The truth is, the first time I had sex, I was sixteen years old. It was on my wedding night, after I married the king."

"Aunt Snow's father."

"Yes, King Leopold. And even though we were married, there was no love, and there was no trust, and there was no respect. I didn't know any different, because my mother told me it was simply my duty as a wife and a queen, so I thought it was just some physical act that I had to do. And it was awful."

Morgan looks up. "It was?"

Regina nods. "It was painful, and uncomfortable, and I felt like I wanted to crawl out of my skin every time it happened. And for a long time, I didn't know that it could be anything different. But I put up with it because it was expected of me." She tilts her head. "You understand what I'm trying to get at?"

Morgan exhales, long and slow. "Yeah, I think so. Just because everyone else is having sex and might expect me to, doesn't mean I should do it. Because it probably wouldn't be what it's supposed to be, right?"

"Right," Regina says, running her thumb over Morgan's knuckles. "Sweetheart, you're fourteen years old. There are so many other things you should be worrying about than sex and who is and isn't having it. And you know what?"

"What?"

" _Anyone_ who tries to change your decisions regarding your body, does not deserve your time or attention," Regina states clearly. "Sex doesn't have to be saved for marriage, but it should be saved for someone you trust and respect, and who trusts and respects you. And it is _okay_ to wait until you find that person, regardless of what the kids at school say. Got it?"

Morgan nods. "Got it," she replies quietly.

Regina sighs, studying her daughter and wondering when they made the leap from singing the alphabet to talking about _this_. "Promise me, that when you do choose to have sex, that you'll be smart about it? I know we talked about birth control already, but do we need to go over condoms again, because-"

"Alright!" Morgan interrupts, face flushing red with mortification. "I think we're done here. Good night."

Regina chuckles as Morgan slides off her stool, dropping her teacup into the sink. "Good night, sweetheart."

Morgan goes to walk out of the kitchen, but spins around at the last minute and wraps her arms around her mother, squeezing tight. "Thanks, Mom," she whispers into her shoulder. "I love you."

Regina lets out a shaky breath, kissing the top of her head. "I love you, too, baby. So much."

Morgan hugs her for a moment longer and then bids good night again, heading up the stairs to her room.

Regina watches her go, and then rests her elbows on the counter, pressing her palms into her eyes. Somehow, by the grace of some god, she didn't mess that conversation up. And despite her own discomfort, it was worth it. It was worth it to know her daughter will never be subjected to the same miseries she had to endure as a young bride.

"Morgan is a very lucky girl to have a mother like you."

Strong arms wrap around her from behind, Robin's scent invading her senses. Regina lifts her head to rest it back against his shoulder, closing her eyes when he drops soft kisses down her neck.

"I think we're the lucky ones," Regina sighs. "To have such an amazing daughter."

Robin hums in agreement. "Everything's alright, then?"

Regina turns in his arms, cupping his face, rubbing her thumbs along his stubble. He's so different from the king, so different in his trust and respect and love for her. And not for the first time, Regina is grateful for him, that she gets to love and be loved by him, and that her children have him in their lives, that they can look up to their father to see just how a good and honorable man acts. She can only hope that Morgan finds someone like him to share her life with.

Regina nods. "Everything is just fine," she murmurs, leaning up to kiss him softly.


	24. Still The Queen

**Prompt: Sex on the kitchen table. Warning: some BDSM elements below**

* * *

 _Smack!_

"Eleven! I'm sorry, sir!"

Regina clenches around Robin's cock, his hard length impaled to the hilt inside her warm, wet heat. He's unmoving, standing still as he presses his hips against her reddening ass, enjoying the way her inner walls squeeze around him each time his hand makes contact with her skin. It's a wonder her knees haven't given out yet, though perhaps they have and she's using the kitchen table to support all of her weight, bent over it as she is.

Her pencil skirt is a rumpled ring around her waist, her shirt undone and half off, her breasts pressed down onto the wood of the table. Her underwear is gone, discarded somewhere unimportant, but her garters and heels remain on, creating an absolutely irresistible curve to her legs and rear.

Robin tightens his grip on her wrists, tied together behind her back. "How many left?" he breathes into her ear, running his tongue around the shell.

Her breathing is heavy, her voice strained as she answers, "Nine, sir."

Robin hums, straightening up to coast his hand over the handprints on her ass. "Yes, nine. And since you're taking your punishment like a good girl, maybe I'll let you cum when it's over." He squeezes a cheek, eliciting a hiss. "Would you like that?"

Regina swallows thickly, eyes closing. "Yes, sir."

He slides his hands around to grip her hips, thumbing her black garters. "But you only get to cum if you count correctly. Understood?"

She nods. "Yes, sir."

Robin smirks, because there's no way she'll be able to keep track, not when he makes it harder for her. He pulls his cock out until just the tip is left inside her, waits a moment and then slams it back in to the hilt, spanking her ass as he thrusts.

"Oh, fuck!" Regina shouts, head snapping back. "Tw-twelve, sir! I'm sorry, sir!"

Robin repeats the motion, pounding into her so hard that the table skits forward an inch.

"Thirteen, sir! Oh, god, I'm sorry, sir!"

 _Smack!_

"Four- fourteen, sir! I'm sorry- oh! Fifteen, sir! I'm sorry, sir!"

 _Smack! Smack!_

He spanks her twice in a row, thrusting his cock in and out at a punishing pace, her counting getting lost in her half-choked screams and moans. Robin reaches down and pulls back on her hair, bringing her ear close to his mouth. "I didn't hear you count," he rasps, his own voice tight thanks to the vicegrip of her sex around his length.

"I'm sorry- oh _fuck_ \- s-sir," she manages breathlessly, eyes pinched tightly closed. "Sixteen, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

Robin stops moving, gripping both her ass cheeks tightly. "That's incorrect," he growls. "I spanked you twice just then, it should be seventeen. Are you so much of a naughty girl you can't even focus on your punishment?"

Regina groans, clenching around his cock. "Forgive me, sir. I just need to cum so badly."

"And I said you'd be allowed to cum if you counted correctly, didn't I?"

When she doesn't answer, Robin tightens his grip in her hair. "Didn't I?" he repeats through clenched teeth.

"Yes, sir," Regina breathes. "I'm sorry, sir. Let me try again sir, please."

"Hmm…" Robin hums, trailing his hands over her red ass. Just the feel of his hands on her spanked skin has her grinding back against him, seeking any kind of friction to get her release. He should make her start all over again, but fuck if he doesn't need to cum himself. He's amazed he's held out this long, as fucking sexy as she is, splayed out over the table for him like this.

"I think we're done counting," he whispers into her ear, releasing her hair just as he starts pounding back into her, hitting just the right spot to make her back arch, a scream flying from her throat.

"Oh, please, sir! Please let me cum!" she begs. "Fuck, may I come? Pleasepleaseplease-oh!"

Robin tucks his hand around her hips, finding her clit and pinching, watching her explode just as he growls, "Cum for me. Cum now."

And she does, writhes and screams at his unrelenting thrusts as he chases his own release, spilling deep inside her, keeping his hips pressed tight against her punished ass.

Robin breathes heavily as he drops down onto his elbows, pressing soft kisses up Regina's back until he can push her hair out of her face, finding her eyes closed and a blissed out expression on her face. "Love?" he murmurs against her cheek.

"Hmm?" she hums absently, eyes still closed.

"You need the cream for your bottom," he says, undoing the knot from the scarf around her wrists. He massages her shoulders as she drops her arms heavily to her sides, evidently too spent to do much else with them.

"I can't feel my legs at the moment, so I'm just going to stay right here," she sighs contently.

Robin chuckles and slips out of her, pulling his jeans back on. "I can solve that problem." He bends down and scoops her up, being mindful of her rear as he holds her around the back and under her knees. "I think a bath sounds nice, yeah?" he suggests, heading for the stairs.

Regina nods, eyes closed as she leans her head against his shoulder. "Yeah," she agrees. "Bath, and then bed."

"Sounds like a good plan, love," Robin says, his hand accidentally slipping down to touch her rear.

Regina jerks and hisses, clawing her nails into his bicep. "Careful," she grits out.

"Well, if _someone_ hadn't touched herself without permission, you wouldn't have had to be punished, and your ass wouldn't be sore," Robin teases as they reach the top of the stairs.

"What makes you think my goal wasn't to be punished in the first place?" Regina challenges, arching a regal eyebrow.

Robin chuckles and kisses her cheek, smiling at the fact that even in submission, she is still very much the queen


	25. The Way You Look

**Written for the prompt: Gryffindor Robin falls for Slytherin Regina. Set in my Brave at Heart verse. I took some liberties with the Yule Ball circumstances.**

* * *

Robin's dress robes are itchy. They're hand-me-downs, some relic of his father's from Dumbledore knows when. They're a deep maroon color made from some wool-like material that irritates his skin as he waits in the foyer.

Hogwarts is decked out tonight, every corner ornamented with something glittery or glowing or snowy. The Great Hall looks like a dream, with tall white candles illuminating the tables and open floor, magic snow falling from the enchanted ceiling, and poinsettias spilling from silver vases in the middle of white-clothed tables. Tables of seemingly endless food line the walls, the aromas mixing with the sounds of the magical orchestra to create an ethereal ambiance.

After all, the Yule Ball is a grand affair.

The students of Hogwarts have dressed themselves up to match the decor of the Great Hall. Everyone is wearing their best robes, with hair styled and shoes polished, bright smiles on display for the festivities of the evening. Robin barely recognizes some of his classmates, especially burly John Little who- apparently- _combed_ his hair.

Daniel and Tink have already gone inside the Hall, Will and Ana too, leaving Robin to wait for his date at the bottom of the stairs. He fidgets with his sleeves, eager to get the evening started. It should be a fun night, and if everything goes according to plan, it may end with something he's waited a long time for, with a girl he's waited a long time for.

"Hello, Robin."

He turns to see Belle smiling at him, looking very pretty and festive in her silver dress and matching robes. Her hair is done up in a low bun type thing with a couple of curled pieces hanging around her face. He returns her smile, reaching for her hand and kissing her knuckles. "Belle. You look lovely," he says.

She blushes slightly, her smile turning into a tease. "I see you're rocking the vintage look."

Robin sighs and glances down at his dated robes. "They were my dad's," he explains. "My mum wanted me to wear them."

"Well, you look very handsome," she assures him. "I'll have to be careful, or else another girl might try to steal my date."

Robin chuckles and holds out his elbow. "Shall we?"

Belle nods and tucks her arm around his, tilting her head back and side to side as she takes in their surroundings. "The Yule Ball committee outdid themselves with the decorations," she comments. "It looks like a winter wonderland in here."

"Yeah, it's almost like Christmas threw up."

"I think it's a little more tasteful than that," Belle laughs, looking at the decorations behind them and then stopping abruptly. "Wow…"

"What?" Robin asks, turning to see what had caught her attention. His heart stops at the sight before him.

At the top of the stairs stands Regina, an absolute vision in pale blue. Her dress flows around her like windswept snow, tiny flecks of silver sparkling in the candlelight whenever she moves. Her hair is loose, falling over her shoulders in perfectly curled waves, a small sparkling clip of some sort holding a few locks out of her face. She's nervous, he can tell, her teeth biting into a red painted lip, her hands restless as she waits at the top of the stairs, her eyes flickering over the dwindling crowd in the foyer.

"She looks beautiful," Belle whispers, and Robin starts slightly, remembering with a jerk that oh yeah, his date is standing right beside him. His date who is not the girl standing at the top of the stands.

"Yeah," Robin murmurs. "She does." He continues to stare up at her until her eyes find his and then she's visibly exhaling, shoulders relaxing as she makes her way down the stairs.

"Hi," she breathes, smiling at the pair of them when she reaches the bottom of the steps.

"Regina, you look so pretty," Belle gushes. "Doesn't she, Robin?"

He swallows, throat suddenly thick. "Um… yeah, you- you do," he stammers. "Stunning, really."

Regina tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, looking down at her dress and robes. "Thank you," she says, cheeks reddening just a bit.

Robin's mind turns into a jumbled mess as he keeps his gaze on her. He's always thought her beautiful, but tonight, like this, in the candlelight, with the graceful tune of the orchestra in the background, and the coziness of the snow gently falling from the ceiling, she is truly-

"Where's Daniel?"

Robin's heart stutters again, but for a different reason this time. Her eagerness to find his best friend- because it's Daniel she dressed up for, Daniel, not her date, not Robin- acts like a bucket of cold water over his head, bringing him back to the present and the reality that his date- who is not Regina- is standing right beside him.

"I saw him and Tink go in already," Belle answers. "We were just about to go in ourselves. Care to join us?"

Regina opens her mouth to answer, but a call of her name from one of the professors across the foyer stops her from speaking. "Oh, I think I have to line up for the procession," she says, gathering her skirts in her hand.

"Procession?" Robin echoes, confused. The only people in the procession are-

"Yeah, my date is a prefect," Regina explains, reading his mind.

Robin blinks, because she's been so elusive about who asked her to the Ball, he was starting to think no one actually asked her, but now- _now_ her date is a _prefect?_

A professor calls her name again, and Regina tells them she'll see them inside and heads off to line up, leaving Robin behind to stare in confusion after her.

Belle clears her throat. "Ready?" she asks.

"What? Oh, yeah, uh, let's go," Robin says, holding out his elbow again. Belle takes his arm and they head into the Hall, leaving the prefects and the stunning vision that is Regina behind.


	26. Absent Hearts

**Written for OQ Fix It Week Day 1- Robin never died day**

* * *

She needs his heart. She doesn't have one of her own anymore and his is a perfect match to the one she once had, so she needs his heart.

She could just take it. But that's boring. And she wants to have some fun.

Regina is off somewhere, probably foolishly trying to find a way to stop her. Let her try. She won't succeed.

Robin is at her house with his child. Not the boy, the baby. The one Regina should hate. If she wasn't stupid and weak, she would hate the baby. But she _is_ stupid and weak and so she doesn't hate the baby. Pathetic.

The Queen doesn't care about the baby. Doesn't even care about Robin that much, to be honest, but she needs his heart and she can't very well march into the house and rip it out. Well, she _could_ , she does love dramatics after all, but she could also… play a bit. She doesn't care about the thief, but damn if he doesn't _do_ things to her.

He _did_ things to her, technically. In the vault, in Camelot, once in the Underworld, and the things he did, mm, the stuff he said, she's getting worked up just thinking about it. The scratch of his stubble, the crook of his fingers, the punishing pace of his cock as it pounded into her, making her come over and over and scream her pleasure to the heavens…

Oh yes, she's going to play a bit first.

She doesn't have a key, but a bit of magic goes a long way in opening doors so with two waves of her hand, she is walking through the front door, wearing the same hairstyle and burgundy dress Regina had left the house in this morning.

"Robin?" she calls, crossing the foyer to the dining room.

It takes a second, but he pokes his head out from the kitchen, confused smile on his face. "Hey," he says. "What are you doing back so soon?"

She rolls her eyes. "The Charmings wanted me to take a break."

"And you actually listened to them?" he laughs, taking the few steps to stand in front of her.

She smiles coyly. "Well, I wasn't going to," she drawls, reaching out a finger and running it up his chest. "But then I remembered you were here… alone… and I realized a _break_ is exactly what I need."

Robin chuckles, low and deep. His hands reach out and pull her in by the waist, pressing their lower halves together. "Was last night not enough to satisfy you, milady?"

She bites her lip, eyes flickering down to his mouth. "Oh, last night was plenty," she breathes, coasting a hand down his back to slip into his jeans pocket. "But I've always been a fan of encores." She gives his rear a shameless squeeze and a lick of heat flashes through her at his resulting chuckle. Gods, he has a sexy laugh.

"Well, as much as I'd like a repeat performance," he says, hands coasting down to grope her own rear. "I'm afraid we can't at the moment. Maddie is waiting for her lunch." He gestures back into the kitchen and she looks over his shoulder to see the baby sitting in her bouncy seat on the table, watching the ceiling fan in fascination.

The Queen scowls for a split second and then catches herself. She smiles coyly. "Oh, don't worry," she breathes, threading her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. "With what I have in mind, you won't last long."

He makes a noise of mild protest when she pulls his mouth to hers, but his resistance dies after a moment and she feels his lips practically melt against hers. Gods, he's so easy. Absolutely besotted with her other half and how tragic for him. That he should be weak for someone like her.

She nips his bottom lip and pushes her tongue to tackle his, nails scraping roughly at the nape of his neck. His lips are smooth against hers, and she lets a moan sound in the back of her throat. Mm, he's a good kisser. Or rather, he's a good kisser for about ten seconds and then he's pulling back, away from her, breath hot and heavy against her mouth.

The Queen forces down the irritation rising in her veins as she opens her eyes to find him looking at her curiously. "Is everything okay, my love?" he asks, gaze flittering around her face. "You seem a little… off-kilter."

The smile that comes to her lips is fake, masking venom and frustration. She just wants to _fuck_ for gods' sake. Scratch an itch before she gets back to the task at hand and he just has to be caring and _stupid._

"I'm fine," she lies, keeping her voice sweet. "Just a lot on my mind." She moves in to kiss him again and get things going, but then the little _brat_ lets out the most irritating screech and Robin turns away.

"Oh, there, there, princess," he coos, stepping into the kitchen and picking up his daughter. "I'm getting your lunch, I promise."

The Queen scowls at his turned back and resists the urge to stamp her foot. Alright, _fine._ She won't fuck him. She'll just take his heart and get back to work. Ugh, but how _boring._ And how unsatisfying, too. Wouldn't it be lovely to see Regina's face when she realizes her soulmate can't tell the difference between her two halves?

"Regina, can you get me a bib?" Robin asks, turning back around, the baby resting on his shoulder.

Oh, what, is she his _servant_ now? Regina _would_ just do any he asked, wouldn't she? Just one more aggravating thing to test her patience. She plasters on a smile again. "Of course," she answers, not even bothering to leave the fakeness out of her tone anymore.

She sends out a wave of magic, summoning a bib to her hand from a drawer across the kitchen, and holds it out to him. "Here."

He nods his thanks and takes it, setting his daughter back into her chair and fastening the bib around her neck.

The Queen barely manages to stifle a sigh, crossing her arms as she looks around the kitchen. Now what? She had planned to take his heart in the middle of riding him into the ground- because how delicious would _that_ be?- but apparently that isn't happening, so now how to get close enough-

She's startled when he knocks her back against the wall, his bodyweight keeping her pressed tight and unable to move. He's quick- unsurprising- but what does surprise her is the blade of the knife he holds against her throat, steel cool on her skin.

The Queen looks up to meet his eyes and feels a heat ripple through her at the danger flicking in his gaze. Oh now _this_ is a thief she can get behind. Or beneath.

"Your Majesty," he hisses, jaw clenching.

She bats her eyelashes at him. "Thief," she returns. "Are we going to play now? Because I certainly like where this is going." She manages to wriggle her hips against his, feeling the fading echoes of his arousal from earlier.

"What are you doing here?" he demands. "Where is Regina?"

The Queen rolls her eyes. "How should I know? I'm not her keeper." She tries to twist her arm free, but he holds her fast against the wall. "Frankly, I'm surprised you knew the difference between us. Since you're so drawn to her… darker side."

"Regina never uses magic in front of the children unless she has to," Robin snaps.

The Queen grimaces. "How annoying." She spins her frown into a suggestive smirk. "But she uses magic in front of you, doesn't she?" she teases. "In front of you, _on_ you, above you…" She chuckles. "You do like it when I'm above you."

"Stop it," he barks, veins popping in his hand as he grips the knife tighter.

"You like it when I scream for you," she continues, voice dropping to a sultry level. "When you make me come and come, so many times I lose count. When I take your cock in my mouth and suck it dry, or when I ride you so hard you forget your own name. You do like that, don't you, thief?"

"Enough!" Robin shouts, jaw set in fury

"What's the matter? Ashamed that I can turn you on just like she can?" the Queen baits, pressing her hips up against his again, smirking at his re-hardening erection.

"What do you want?" he demands, pressing the blade tighter to her throat.

The Queen sighs overdramatically, managing to slide one hand free from the pressure of his body against hers. "Well, I _did_ want to have some fun with you," she says, dancing her fingers up and down his half-hard length.

He jerks his hips away from her touch and she grins. "But I guess I can settle for a different kind of fun, too."

She waves her free hand and he flies away from her, slamming back against the counter, knife dropping from his grip with the force of the blow. The baby starts to cry again, but the Queen silences her, snatching away her voice for the time being.

Robin whips around at that, eyes wide as he stares at the silent cries of his daughter. "What did you do to her?" he demands, anger and fear making his voice waver.

"I shut her up," the Queen dismisses, sauntering forward. She presses Robin back against the counter, laughing at his defenselessness and uncertainty. "Don't worry, I'll give her voice back. Once I get what I want."

Robin swallows, eyes flickering all over her face, anxiety swirling behind his pools of blue. "And what do you want?" he asks.

The Queen smiles, leaning into him and running a hand up his chest. "Well, you see… I _could_ tell you, but I think I'd rather just show you."

She lets him fret for a half-second and then plunges her hand into his chest, relishing in the strangled gasp he lets out. She yanks his heart free, smiling victoriously as she holds the bright red organ in her hand. It beats steady in her hand, beats in time with Regina's halfway across Storybrooke. Beats in time with the heart the Queen once had.

"My heart," Robin states, chest heaving with labored breath. "How original."

The Queen looks up at him and grins like a cat. "Yes, your heart," she purrs. "Tell me, thief, did you know your heart is a perfect match to Regina's?" She turns away from him, marveling at his life in her palm.

"Never thought about it," he answers, eyes shooting between her and his daughter, still wailing away silently.

"Well, it is," the Queen says. She turns back to face him. "And if it's a perfect match to Regina's, doesn't that just make it the perfect match to the one I once had as well?"

Robin's face falls as his eyes widen. "No, please, don't-"

"Don't what?" the Queen sneers. "Take back what was taken from me?" She glares. "Regina tried to kill me by crushing my heart. And she's attempting to kill me again. But she won't be able to now, because if she kills me, she'll also kill you."

"Please, Regina, you don't have to do this-"

"I'm not Regina!" the Queen shouts. "Regina is _weak,_ and I am _nothing_ like her." She squeezes his heart and he flinches, fists clenching as he fights against the pain burning in his chest. " _You_ are part of why she's so pathetic," the Queen spits. "If it weren't for you, she wouldn't have tried to destroy me."

"That's not true," Robin chokes out. "You know that's not true. If I had been there, I would have tried to talk her out of it."

"Stop lying. It won't save you."

"I'm not lying, Regina," he wheezes. "Why would I lie to you? I love you."

The Queen stares at him in horror, her grip on his heart loosening in her shock. "No you don't," she breathes. "You can't."

"I do," Robin insists, visibly relaxing now that his chest isn't being constricted. "You know I love you, Regina. I've always loved you." He takes a tentative step forward. "Every part of you. Even the parts you want to throw away."

The Queen moves back to keep the distance between them. He's lying. He _has_ to be lying. He can't love her. No one loves her. Not even her other half loves her.

She's bombarded with memories, suddenly. A kaleidoscope of the past, whispered words and gentle touches, heartfelt declarations of, "The woman I know is the furthest thing from a monster," and, "I'm not afraid of you," and "Bold and audacious maybe, but not evil." But he meant those things for Regina, didn't he? Not for her. No one ever says things like that to her.

"Why didn't you stop her, then?" the Queen asks. "Why didn't you stop her from crushing my heart?"

"I wasn't there," Robin says, taking another step toward her. "But I wish I had been. Maybe I could have prevented this whole thing from happening."

The Queen looks away. "I doubt it."

"You're not whole without Regina," he states plainly. Another step. "And she's not whole without you. You need each other."

"Why would I need her?" the Queen asks, frustrated at the fragile sound of her voice. "She just makes me weak."

Robin shakes his head, moving ever closer to her. "No. She completes you, just like you complete her. Together, you're strong, and brave, and kind, and determined, and thoughtful, and a little bitchy, but that's who you are. And yes, Regina, you are loving. And you are so, so loved."

He's right in front of her now, blue eyes boring into hers, and as hard as she searches, the Queen cannot find one drop of insincerity in his gaze. She swallows, unused to the fluttering inside her chest. She doesn't feel things like this. She doesn't _get_ to feel things like this. She shouldn't feel things like this, and yet… she does.

"You really love me?" she whispers, unable to do anything but suppress a shiver as he drops his forehead to hers.

"I do," he murmurs, reaching a hand up to thread through her hair. "How could you ever think I didn't?"

She should have an answer for that, but her mind screeches to a halt, breath freezing in her lungs as his lips press softly to hers. If she had a heart, it'd be racing, and she can tell by the way his pulses rapidly in her palm that he feels much the same way.

He skates the hand in her hair down her back and wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. And still he kisses her, gentle and slow, in a way he only ever kisses Regina, but now he's kissing her like Regina, and she's not her, they're not the same, not at all, but he's kissing _her_ and he loves _her_ and maybe-

"Robin?"

Regina's voice from the foyer followed by the closing of the front door makes the Queen freeze before she startles away from Robin, absent heart suddenly pounding for a different reason.

He glances out toward the dining room, where the sound of Regina's heels clicking on the hardwood is getting closer and closer. He looks back to her then, something like hope in his eyes, or pleading maybe, like he's asking her to stay, asking her to not run from herself again.

But she's standing here holding his heart in her hand, with a silencing spell cast on his baby, and smeared lipstick from kissing him when he's not hers to kiss, not really, and he wants her to stay and face herself? He might love her, but Regina certainly does not. And the Queen's head is still spinning from Robin's declaration, she's too thrown off to face the assault Regina would surely send her way if she finds her here.

So the Queen does what the Queen does best.

She runs.

Presses Robin's heart back into his hands and raises her arms, simultaneously undoing the silencing spell on the baby and disappearing in a cloud of purple smoke, just before Regina rounds the corner into the kitchen.

She reappears in her vault in a moment, and immediately turns to her mirror, swirling a hand over the glass until the image of the kitchen she just left appears.

"...happened?" Regina is saying, one hand on Robin's chest, the other wrapped around his fingers of the hand holding his heart.

The baby is crying in the background, and Robin glances over his shoulder, ignoring Regina's question in favor of going to his daughter. He sets his heart down on the counter and reaches for… what was her name? Madeline? Madison? Something.

He starts shushing her and Regina steps in close, running a hand over the baby's head, a thin purple glow surrounding her palm. "She's alright," Regina says. "She didn't do anything to her."

The Queen clenches her fists, fingernails digging into her skin. Of course. Of _course_ that's where Regina's mind would go. As if she would ever actually _hurt_ the child. Threaten to, yes. But she would never-

"I know she didn't," Robin answers, a bit harshly if the way Regina flinches is any indication. He sighs and sets the child ( _Maddie._ That's what her called her) back down into her seat, her cries soothed by a pacifier for now. "Sorry," he murmurs, bringing Regina in close to him, hand at her back. He says something else, but it's too quiet for the Queen to hear.

It's all whispers after that, lingering touches of reassurance in a moment that feels too intimate to be watched. But the Queen does watch, empty chest constricting as Regina picks up Robin's heart, letting him hold onto her as he breathes through the sharp pain of a heart returned. And then it's Regina's hands on his face, fingers scratching along stubble the Queen herself has felt, as Regina leans up and kisses him, kisses the lips the Queen had just been melting under.

It's sickeningly sweet, and frustrating, and the Queen sniffs angrily as she wipes away a stupid tear that had escaped down her cheek. Robin loves her. But as long as Regina is around, he will never love just her. And that just won't do.

The Queen swallows and waves her hand, vanishing the image of Robin and Regina canoodling around the baby, their perfect little happy ending.

Villains don't get happy endings. And it's about time Regina remembers that.


	27. Hollow

**For OQ Fix It Week Day 2- Fix the Zelena baby situation. TW: miscarriage, sort of**

* * *

She is barren. Her womb, empty. Permanently blocked off from any chance of carrying a child within her, of feeling another life grow inside her. It's not a new development- it's a holdover from her darkest days, when she thought destroying herself was the surest way to finding some mockery of happiness. The potion she took was irreversible, and so there is no hope that she could ever give birth to a child of her own blood.

But it's been three weeks since Robin crossed the town line, three weeks since she saw him for the last time, and it's a rainy Monday morning when Regina wakes up screaming in pain, a sharp stab ripping through her stomach and radiating down her legs. She throws her covers off and her heart stops when she sees the blood, everywhere, covering everything, her thighs, her hips, even her knees.

Henry comes running into her room and then it's panicked phone calls, and Snow getting there before the ambulance does, and her face is pale when she sees her stepmother's condition, so much paler than usual, but Regina can barely see straight because the pain _won't stop,_ and is she dying? Is this how she'll finally die?

The ambulance comes and Regina's consciousness goes, her eyes drooping shut as Henry's hand squeezes hers tighter and tighter and-

She wakes to steady beeping, and the smell of antiseptic, and the itch of a hospital gown on her skin. Henry is relieved, and so is Snow, but there's something else, something under the smiles and reassurances they're giving her. It shows when she asks what happened. What happened to her? What's wrong?

There's hemming and hawing and stalling on both their parts until the Queen starts to show through and she _demands_ to know what happened.

Henry doesn't tell her, and neither does Snow. It's Whale, who comes into her room unceremoniously, and asks her how long she'd known she was pregnant.

Regina stares, and then she scoffs, a bitter laugh turning into something like hysteria when she tells him she hadn't known because she wasn't pregnant. She couldn't be pregnant.

And as it turns out, she isn't pregnant. Not anymore.

A miscarriage, that's what Whale said. Her baby only a month along, and gone. Ripped away in the most painful, heartbreaking manner possible. She thought she wasn't able to get pregnant, but then, she thought she wasn't able to love ever again, and life proved her wrong there. And how cruel, that life should prove her wrong on one front in order to prove her wrong again on the other.

True Love is a powerful antidote. One she hadn't accounted for.

She wants to cry. For losing Robin, and now losing the one part of him she might have had left. Their child, their baby, gone. His love- _their_ love- had been strong enough to reverse the effects of her self-hatred from so long ago. But she suffered for it back then, and she's still suffering.

She wants to cry. But she won't. Can't. She doesn't deserve to. It's her fault, after all. Isn't it?

* * *

She is barren. Her womb, empty. Somehow, Zelena knew that. Maybe she felt the residual magic from the potion lingering within. Or maybe she saw her drink it as she watched, through her own magic mirror, Regina's self-destruction. She always watched her, it seems.

Regardless, she knew. And like all things wicked and evil, she took that knowledge and abused it.

So now, here they are. In New York City. In Neal's old apartment. And Zelena stands there, sinister smile on her face, hand resting proudly on her stomach. Pregnant. With Robin's child.

Robin, who stands aghast and horrified and disbelieving, his shoulders rigid, his mouth agape, disgust radiating from every cell in his body.

Regina brings a hand to her own stomach, feeling the echoes of pain and emptiness from a month ago. And how cruel, that Zelena should get to feel the life and growth of a child within while Regina is left with only what could have been.

She wants to cry. But she doesn't.

* * *

It's two months later- two short, miniscule months- and Zelena is being pushed through the halls of the hospital, howling and wailing as if the sky is falling on her head alone. Her stomach is swollen, her contractions have increased, and the baby is coming.

Too soon. It's all too soon, but here it is.

Robin's breathing is short, clipped, his muscles tense and tight as he stands with his arms crossed, face colored with misery and worry and uncertainty. She wants to know what he's thinking, but she can imagine it's similar to what she feels.

Empty. Hollow. Worthless.

She hasn't told him about the miscarriage. Hasn't told him how he inadvertently hurt her yet again- by giving her hope for something she thought she could never have, only for it to be ripped away for no reason other than to cause her suffering. But she still feels it- the echoes of what might have been, the very spot within her that had once held their child.

She feels it now, sharply, the _lack_ of something inside her, and it's all she can do to not run from the room when the doctor says it's almost time to push.

Twenty minutes later, the shrill cry of a new life shakes the walls of the hospital as the youngest citizen of Storybrooke makes herself known.

Her. A girl. A daughter.

Regina always wanted a daughter. A little lady she could raise to be kind and strong and beautiful. To forge a bond so different from the one she and her own mother shared. She always wanted a daughter, but she doesn't have one.

Zelena does. Zelena has a daughter with Robin. With Regina's soulmate.

And suddenly that emptiness in Regina's stomach fills with something swirling and volatile and she does run from the room then, not wanting to let Robin see her weakness in a time when she should be strong. For him. For them. For any chance they might make it out of this.

She runs to the restroom and her stomach becomes empty in a whole different way. She sputters, and spits, and sits, sinking to the floor with her knees drawn up, and lets herself cry.

* * *

A lifetime later, there's a knock on the door and then Robin's voice, so soft, so calming, so worried as he says her name, requesting permission to enter. A sniffle is all she can give him, so he opens the door and sits down beside her, head tilting back against the wall, eyes closing.

And they sit. No words, no questions, no interaction beyond their joined hands, Robin's thumb rubbing back and forth over her knuckles. It's quiet, and still, and peaceful in a way, despite where they are, and when they are, and why they are.

After a minute, an hour, a lifetime, Robin speaks, says that Snow had brought the Blue Fairy in to check on his daughter. To make sure she wasn't affected by Emma's… meddling. Regina holds her breath and then lets it go when he says his daughter is fine, that nothing wrong was found. Except-

(There's always an except.)

Except there was something Blue didn't quite understand, Robin says. His daughter, she has magic. Robin's voice goes a little strained at that, because he hates magic. Well, doesn't hate it, but distrusts it. He believes in the natural world, and magic is far beyond that, beyond what he can see, and feel, and hear. It must be quite an adjustment, having a child with magic.

But regardless, his daughter has magic, Blue could sense it, he says, and his daughter's magic is… pure. Light. Good. The exact opposite of Zelena's. Which doesn't make much sense, does it? Blue apparently didn't know what to make of it, and Robin doesn't either, which is why he's here, sitting beside her on the bathroom floor, asking if she has any theories on the matter.

She doesn't. Or, doesn't want to think hard enough to come up with one. Her brain is tired, and her heart is battered, and she just doesn't want to _think_ anymore. So she stands on less-than-steady knees and helps Robin to his feet, forcing a brave face yet again to see her niece for the first time.

* * *

They've wrapped her in a pink fleece blanket flecked with white stars, and a soft little hat to match. She's beautiful, her face a little smushed like all newborns are, her skin just a little red, but she is precious all the same, and oh, how that makes Regina's womb clench around nothingness.

Her hands shake just slightly as the nurse places the little bundle in Regina's arms, tiny limbs stretching and readjusting in sleep until she settles against Regina's chest, small eyes closed in a peaceful rest. Robin smiles softly, sadly, as he watches them, something like hope in his eyes, and it's all Regina can do to not start crying again.

She looks down at the tiny life in her arms, and feels the familiar hollowness echoing inside her. But it's not just hollowness now, it's a longing, like a part of her is reaching out, tugging her toward the little girl sleeping so soundly in her hold. And it's strong, this feeling of connection, so strong that her magic starts to jump in her veins, flooding to her fingertips, spilling out and over until…

Regina gasps, startled by the feel of her magic mingling with someone else's, but not just anyone else's, with… with _hers._ The purity, the goodness, the _light_ of Robin's daughter's magic is so overwhelming she can barely breathe for a moment as the connection builds and grows until it's almost like their powers are the same, like they stem from the same source, like they share the same strength, like-

Like they _are_ the same.

And suddenly it's three months ago and Regina's womb is empty and the last piece of her soulmate is gone from her world because her baby is gone, because _their_ baby is gone, but she's not. She never was. She's _here,_ in Regina's arms, alive and real and _perfect,_ her magic so bright and pure that it could only be born of the love between soulmates, between two hearts that beat as one.

Their magic connects, almost as if her daughter- _her_ daughter, her _daughter-_ is reaching out to say, "Hello, mama. Remember me? I never left you. I'm right here."

Tears spill down Regina's cheeks as she looks up at Robin, at the concern and worry in his eyes, but he has nothing to be worried about because everything, for once, is perfect. Regina leans down and kisses their daughter on the forehead, and then she smiles, bright and raw and real. "She's ours, Robin," Regina breathes. "She's _ours."_

Many questions and answers later, Robin has his arms around her, tears running down his face in relief, in joy, in anger that Zelena dared to take their baby from them- magically ripping her from Regina's womb in a twisted attempt to literally steal their happiness. But the anger is small, so little in comparison to the pure _love_ he feels for the two women in his arms. His soulmate, and their child. Together, finally, at last.


	28. Hearts on Top

_Monday/Day 1 of OQ Happy Endings Week. Bandit OQ._

* * *

They're not together, her and Robin. Partners in crime, sure. People who share a mutual interest in the other's safety, yes. But not together. They flirt often, and there's an obvious attraction on both sides, but neither one has dared to breach the unknown question of what exactly 'they' are. They play games, try to see who can hide emotion better behind insults and barbed jests. It's better that way. They have enough on their plates thanks to Snow's vendetta against Regina. They don't need to add things like feelings to the clusterfuck of their lives.

So no, they're not together. Which means Regina has absolutely no idea why Robin is so pissed at the moment.

"You are _unbelievable!"_ she shouts, storming into the room. She doesn't bother to hold the door and lets it swing back, nearly smacking Robin in the face as he stalks after her.

" _I'm_ unbelievable?" he says incredulously, throwing his bow and quiver down on the table carelessly. "I'm not the one risking our lives over a pint!"

"Oh, be more dramatic, won't you?" Regina sighs in frustration.

Robin scowls, fists curling at her condescending tone. "Wanting to keep us from the gallows is not being dramatic," he argues. "And you're lucky I stepped in when I did, otherwise-"

" _Otherwise,_ I wouldn't be covered in ale," Regina snaps, gesturing to the large wet stain all down her front. "And _otherwise,_ I wouldn't be here trying to yell some sense into your stupidly thick skull. I'd be enjoying the company of a very fine-looking knight, who I am sure is not anywhere close to as irritating as you are."

"Sure, you'd be enjoying his company all right," Robin mocks. "Right up until he tied a hangman's noose around your neck."

Regina rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. We're on the outer edge of the northernmost kingdom. He didn't even know who I was."

"If he didn't know who you were, he was either blind, or his skull was just as stupidly thick as you say mine is," Robin retorts, untying his cloak and practically throwing it over the back of a chair.

Regina glares, crossing her arms, her nails digging into her biceps. He's an idiot, a complete idiot, a moron, an imbecile, a half-witted fool with crumbs for brains. The knight she was talking to in the tavern had no clue who she was, there was absolutely zero chance of anything going wrong, and yet this… this… this _dumbass_ thought it fit to put himself where he was not wanted and get in the middle of some rather delicious flirting that was most definitely going to turn into some even more delicious foreplay. Foreplay that could have turned into pillowtalk about just how much information northern knights have on her whereabouts. But just as she was about to get an invitation to take their conversation somewhere more private, Robin had to go and bump into the knight, knocking the beer out of his hand and all over Regina, effectively ruining any chance she had of enjoying some intimate company this evening.

"Well, I hope you're _happy,"_ Regina snips, pulling at the ties on her vest. "Because you attracted the attention of everyone in the bar with your little stunt. If Snow's guards didn't know where we were before, they certainly do now."

"Granny won't rat us out," Robin says, though his voice doesn't carry much confidence.

"You think a horde of guards is going to listen to an old innkeeper?" Regina scoffs, tugging on her vest strings, slowly working her way up her stomach. "Try again, thief. Snow gets word we're here, guards will be knocking on our door before sunrise."

Robin scowls, crossing his arms petulantly. "Well, don't go blaming me for this. I wouldn't have had to make a scene if you had just…"

Regina reaches the top of her vest and pulls until the strings are loose enough for her to tug it off, dropping it on the bed without much thought. "If I had just what?" she challenges, eyebrows arched as she turns back around to face him.

Her pulse doubles when she sees the look in his eyes, the dark depths of his pupils blown wide as he stares at her. Her skin prickles with self-consciousness and she glances down at herself, swallowing when she realizes the wet spot on the front of her vest had soaked through to her white tunic underneath, rendering the fabric quite see-through… and quite stuck to her skin. Regina crosses her arms in an attempt to divert Robin's attention from her accidentally-bared torso, but if his sharp inhale is an indication, she only made the situation worse, thanks to her now pushed-up cleavage, so she drops her arms entirely and dares to look back up at him.

Mistake.

Lustful isn't the right word for his expression. There's lust, yes, but an unabashed and open _wanting_ in his eyes that conveys so much more than basic desire. Regina swallows again, mouth going dry at the mounting tension in the suddenly quiet room. She's torn between covering herself back up, and waiting for Robin to do something other than stare at her.

She opts for the latter.

He blinks, stares, and then blinks again, dropping his eyes to the ground as a bright blush colors his cheeks. "I'd appreciate it if you were more careful next time," he says after clearing his throat. His voice is a bit tight, as if he needs something to drink. "Maybe direct your flirting to someone who doesn't have a sword strapped to his belt?"

Regina fiddles with the strings hanging down from her tunic collar. "And why do you care?" she asks, more curious now than angry. The way he was looking at her just now… he can't just be concerned about not getting caught. There's something else driving his sudden bout of protectiveness, and she fears she knows exactly what that something is. Fears she feels it too.

Robin glances back up at her quickly and then looks away again, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I'd hate to have to haul my men all the way to the Queen's castle to save your arse from the gallows," he deflects. "Bit of a ride, that is, and the horses are still tired from today's job, and the men are probably plastered by now, so if you got captured, well, that would just be terribly inconvenient for all parties involved, wouldn't it?"

"And that's what made you so upset?" Regina murmurs, taking a few slow steps toward him, ignoring the pounding of her heart. "The… _inconvenience_ of my hypothetical capture?"

"Well, uh… no… but, I mean… yes at the same time, I guess," Robin stammers, eyes darting around the room as his ability to look at places that are Not Regina slowly decreases with every step she takes.

"And you weren't bothered at all by the thought of me and that knight taking a room for the evening?" she asks lowly, voice dropping to a level that makes Robin swallow thickly. She's right in front of him now, a few sparse inches between her body and his, and try as he might to resist, his eyes snap back to the front of her shirt, to the deep vee of skin out for perusal, to the translucent fabric that clings to indecent places.

"You weren't bothered by the thought of me… touching him?" she continues, reaching out two fingers and walking them up the front of Robin's vest, hooking into the space between two clasps. She rises onto her tiptoes to bring her mouth up to his ear, the breathiness of her voice making goosebumps flare on his neck. "Of him touching me?"

Robin squeezes his eyes shut tightly and shakes his head. "No… why would that bother me?" he manages, hands clenched into fists of restraint by his sides.

He's good at playing this game. They've been playing it for months after all, the two of them, constantly sparing back and forth, waiting for the other to yield or strike, each taking and delivering blows while pretending their dodging doesn't hurt as much as it does. But Regina has been playing games her whole life. Games of life and death, games of chance, games of pain, and she doesn't want to play anymore. She wants to shuffle the deck and lets the cards fall where they will. And maybe, for once, the hearts will land on top.

"I didn't want that knight to touch me," Regina confesses, keeping her eyes trained on Robin's until he's compelled to meet her gaze.

His brow quirks in confusion. "Then why did you-"

"I want _you_ to touch me," she whispers, reaching down for his hand and slowly opening his fist. She rests his palm on her hip, heart pounding even faster at the sharp inhale of breath he takes. "And I…" she threads her fingers through his hair, angling his face down to hers. "Want to touch you."

Her words end on a breath, lips parted, hovering just below his, deciding whether to wait for Robin to do something other than stare at her or close the distance between them herself.

She opts for the latter.

* * *

Sunshine streams through the cracks in the wooden shutters, casting thin, golden lines of morning on the floor, across the bed. Regina wakes without a start for once, her eyes fluttering open slowly, squinting slightly against the dim brightness of the day. She stretches and yawns, turning over onto her side to be greeted by a warm smile and sleepy blue eyes.

"Good morning," Robin says lowly, voice raspy and intimate. He slides a hand over her side, pressing lightly into the small of her back, bringing her closer to him. Her bare skin prickles with goosebumps at his touch, heart pitter-pattering at the look of contentment and love on his face.

"Mm, morning," she returns, leaning in close until their noses touch, tilting just enough to brush her lips against his. "Did you sleep well?"

Robin nods, stealing another kiss from her lips before dotting one on her nose and another on her forehead. "Best sleep I've had in a very long time, especially considering I didn't have to listen to John's snoring," he teases, grin widening at her breathy laugh. "Ah, there it is." He brings his hand up to cup her cheek, fingers threading into her hair. "There's that elusive yet satisfying smile I think about every time I close my eyes."

Regina can do nothing but melt at that, heart feeling full in a way she's never experienced before. She props herself up on her elbows and leans down for a proper kiss, fusing their mouths together as she pushes him onto his back and straddles his hips, laying herself down until they're pressed together from chest to calf. She breaks the kiss just long enough to catch her breath, helpless to the smile that obstinately refuses to abate. She feels wanted, safe, and, yes, loved, for the first time in… well, forever. The hearts have landed on top. And since they are done playing games, there is no point in not voicing what they've both been feeling for the several months, is there?

"Robin?" she whispers, intoning it like a question even though she already has his full attention.

"Yes?" he replies, rubbing his thumb gently along her bottom lip. His eyes are so kind, so open, and she lets herself drown in them.

"I love you."

It's a quiet confession, something akin to a prayer or a wish, but she's never had much luck with either. Left too often to fend and fight for herself, damning fate for abandoning her so. But Robin's answer is more precious to her than any gift from the gods or any falling star.

"I love you, too, darling. Always."

Regina smiles his favorite smile and presses her forehead to his. "Always, hm?"

"Yeah," Robin breathes, closing the distance between them. "Always."


	29. Until The Storm Has Passed

OQ Happy Endings Week Day 2/Tuesday. Camelot OQ.

* * *

Regina wakes with a terrifying start, heart stopping at a crack of thunder so loud the bed shakes. She squeaks at a sudden flash of lightning, nails digging into Robin's chest as he stirs, legs shifting beneath her. "S'evrthin 'kay?" he mumbles, hand coasting uncoordinated up and down her side.

Another crack of thunder answers his question.

Regina grits her teeth and presses her nose to his chest as if she can hide herself from the storm in his warmth. Gone is the content sleepiness of only moments prior, tension coursing through her muscles in its wake. She hates thunderstorms. Hates, hates, hates them. Mother and Leopold had each instilled in her an intense fear of loud noises, the slam of a door or the breaking of an object always signaling anger and pain and tears. Robin knows she despises storms and if the way he squeezes her hand at a flash of lightning is any indication, he hasn't forgotten.

"You alright, love?" he asks quietly, sleep leaving his voice.

Regina starts to nod, but thinks better of it. He'll see right through her anyway, so she switches and shakes her head just as another rumble of thunder rolls through the sky.

Robin drops a kiss to the top of her head and slides out of bed, making his way through their darkened room. Regina sits up, nerves amplified by his absence beside her. "Where are you going?" she asks, hating the way her voice quivers and shakes.

"Just relighting the fire," Robin answers over the sound of wood knocking together. There's the distinct _shing_ of flint on steel, a spray of sparks, and then the orange glow of a fire slowly coming back to life. She can make out the barest outline of Robin's figure as he crouches in front of the fireplace, rearranging and prodding the logs until a few strong flames emerge, casting a soft light around the room.

Robin dusts his hands off as he stands. "That should keep until the storm passes."

As if on cue, a flash of lightning skitters across the sky, a sharp roll of thunder coming not long after. Regina jumps and reaches for Robin as he makes his way back to the bed, yanking him to her as she lays back down and pulls the covers up tight again. He _oofs_ a bit in surprise, but doesn't comment on her haste to hunker beneath their quilts and furs, and she is grateful for it. Just because he knows she's afraid, doesn't mean she isn't embarrassed by it.

"I feel like a child," she mutters after another particularly loud crack of thunder has her turning her face harder into his shoulder.

"Nonsense," Robin dismisses. "There's nothing childish about being afraid." He kisses her forehead and pulls her in closer, encompassing her in a warmth that makes her shiver. "You know, back in Sherwood, whenever it stormed, the men and I, we'd make a game of it. We'd all try to fire an arrow at a tree and time it just right so the arrow stuck when the thunder cracked, and whoever had the best timing won."

Regina smiles against his neck. "And did you ever win?"

"I always won, milady" Robin boasts proudly.

"You and your timing," she chuckles, sucking in a breath as lightning illuminates the room. Robin cups his hand against the back of her head, pressing her to him as the thunder starts to crackle a few moments later. The thunder settles, but the little boy sleeping just a room over does not, a frightened "Papa!" sounding through the castle's thick stone walls.

"You're not the only one who hates thunderstorms, it would seem," Robin muses. He kisses her forehead and then moves to slide out of bed once more, stopping when Regina, sitting up again, grabs his hand.

"Don't take too long," she requests.

Robin smiles and leans in to steal a kiss from her lips. "I'll be back in a minute," he promises, hurrying his pace when Roland calls for him again.

She watches him go and pulls the covers up over her bent knees, burying her face in the softness of the quilt as the rain picks up, sputtering furiously against the windows. She curses her mother and Leopold for conditioning such a fear in her. The crack of the thunder is nothing compared to the sting of a palm or the lick of a blade, but it hurts and harms and scares all the same.

More thunder rumbles, not quite as loud, but longer and lingering, the sound slowly dying off in the distance. That she can handle. It's not so sudden, not so sharp. It doesn't catch her off guard as much. She wishes they were back in Storybrooke, wishes they weren't in some unfamiliar castle in an unfamiliar land. She's already on edge here in Camelot, and the jittery nerves that erupt with every rumble of thunder certainly do not help.

"See?" Robin's soft voice comes from the doorway. "She's awake too."

"R'gina?" a small voice mumbles.

She looks up to see Roland in his father's arms, hair sticking up in all directions as he clutches his stuffed monkey to his chest, a few drying tear tracks shining on his cheeks. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"Can I come sleep with you and Papa?" the little boy asks, rubbing his eyes. "The thunder is scary."

"Of course, baby. Come here," Regina answers, folding back the comforter and patting the space beside her.

Robin sets him down on the floor. Roland scurries over and scrambles up into bed, foregoing the spot Regina had indicated in favor of her lap. He tucks his legs around either side of her hips and curls against her chest, monkey held tightly to his stomach.

Regina presses a kiss to the top of his head, wrapping her arms around his torso. "It's alright, baby, there's nothing to be afraid of," she comforts even as she waits impatiently for Robin to get back into bed so he can comfort her in turn.

"I don't like thunderstorms," Roland mumbles miserably, his voice muffled in his monkey's fur.

"Me neither," Regina sighs, hugging him close as thunder sounds once again.

Robin crawls back in beside her and leans back against the headboard, opening his arms for Regina to scoot back and snuggle in close again. Once she's safely tucked into him, Roland tucked into her, he reaches for the covers and cocoons the three of them in cozy warmth. Regina closes her eyes and exhales, flinching only slightly at the next crack of thunder.

"Papa said the thunder is 'cuz the giants in the sky are fighting and wrestling and knocking over all the trees," Roland states, popping his head up. "Right, Papa?"

Robin nods. "That's right, son. Like when Uncle John and Uncle Much wrestle."

Roland giggles. "They look funny when they do that."

"I can imagine," Regina mutters under her breath, earning a good-natured poke to the ribs from Robin. "I don't think I would enjoy watching two large, grown men wrestle in the dirt for fun."

"Oh, it's not for fun. They do it for exercise," Robin explains.

Regina laughs. "Exercise? Those two-"

Thunder cuts her off, a particularly loud, nasty clap that has Roland squeaking as he hugs her tightly. "I wish the giants would stop fighting!" he exclaims, bringing his monkey up to his face. "I don't like it when they fight!"

"Me neither," Henry says from the doorway, scratching the back of his head and causing all three to look up.

"You're 'fraid of the thunder, too, Henry?" Roland asks.

Henry nods as he lopes his way over to the bed, smiling sheepishly at his mother. Thunder had always been a fear of Henry's, ever since he was little, and even though he has realler, more scary things to worry about now that he's older, he still jumps at a clap of thunder.

Regina pulls back the covers and scoots over, making room for her eldest to cuddle his way into her side, resting his head on the shoulder unoccupied by Roland. Regina drops a kiss to Henry's hair as she rocks Roland back and forth, closing her eyes to listen to the drumming of the rain outside. That sound is soothing, she could instantly fall asleep to the easy pitter patter of a summer shower, but no sooner has she closed her eyes than lightning flares through the room again. A few seconds pass and then the thunder follows, a low growl that quickly escalates to a sharp crash.

Roland whimpers against her chest as Henry winces, turning his head against her shoulder. And Regina, try as she might, can't help but tense up until the rumble has passed.

Robin presses a sympathetic kiss to her temple and then lifts his arm from around her back to reach for Roland, pulling him off her lap and onto his. "How about we have a story while we wait for the storm to pass?" he suggests, shifting until he's more slouched against the headboard so Roland can lay on his chest.

Regina opens her now empty arms for Henry, who wastes no time in snuggling into her embrace, warming her heart at his open display of affection despite his age. "A story, hm?" she echoes, tilting her head to rest on Robin's shoulder. "What kind of story?"

"One of Papa's stories," Roland insists. He sounds awake, but his eyes are drooping, the late hour getting the better of him in spite of his fear. "Papa tells the best stories."

"It should be a story about all of us," Henry chimes in, yawning big and wide. "All of us on some great adventure."

Robin chuckles, low and warm, as he rubs a soothing hand up Roland's back. "Alright. Let's see… I think I may know just the tale. Once upon a time, there was a queen, and she was the most beautiful queen in all the realms…"

* * *

Robin doesn't count his blessings often. He's not a terribly reflective man. He sees life for what it is and doesn't stop to ponder it that much. But tonight, as the rages of a summer thunderstorm fizzle into soft drops of rain on the window, thunder and lightning lost to the distance, he takes a moment to stop and just look at the three blessings beside him.

Roland had fallen asleep near the beginning of the story. He is only four, after all. His eyelids had drooped and fluttered for a few minutes until he couldn't resist the call of sleep any longer and fell boneless against his father. Regina was, surprisingly, quick to follow Roland to dreamland, her beautiful eyes falling shut before Robin reached the climax of the story. Her breathing had evened, her muscles relaxed, and Robin was grateful that she found sleep once more. Henry had held out the longest, waiting to hear how the brave knight and noble prince reunited the queen with her thief, his eyes not closing until the happily ever after.

"Roland's right," Henry had yawned, turning over onto his stomach. "You do tell good stories." And then he had been out, leaving Robin to look upon the three most important people in his life.

Three blessings laid out side by side, all sleeping safe and warm, calmed by the comfort their togetherness brings. Soothed into sleep by the sound of his voice, the steadiness of his words. Robin shifts until he's laying on his side and stretches an arm out across Roland, fingertips curling around Regina's arm, the backs of his knuckles brushing Henry's elbow. He closes his eyes and breathes. Counts his blessings, one, two, three, and then joins them in sleep.


End file.
